Cruel and Unusual Punishment
by AllycatFelton
Summary: Hermione is sick and tired of Draco's numerous attempts to bed her, so she sets him what she thinks to be an impossible task, with her as the prize. AU set in seventh year. Disclaimer: JKR owns it all...
1. Chapter 1

"Have sex with me."

"For the last time, NO!"

"Ok sweetums, see you at the meeting tonight, try not to miss me too much."

"Yeah, that'll be a tough one," Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes at the Head Boy's retreating form. Of all the cocky, self-centered men in her year, she had to get stuck sharing a common room with the cockiest and the most self-centered egomaniac of them all—Draco Malfoy. It wouldn't have been quite so bad, she had thought upon first learning who her counterpart was to be. She figured they could separate business and personal life, and basically just ignore one another completely outside of the business aspect.

How wrong she had been. Not only did Draco insist on conversing with her at every waking moment, the only things that would come out of his mouth were sexual. If he wasn't requesting sexual favors or demanding that she sleep with him, which he did on a regular basis, then he was vividly describing just when, where, and for how long he had bedded his girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson.

She shook her head, trying to clear out any thoughts of the blonde bastard so she could make the most of her time without him. She dipped her quill into the ink and picked up where she left off on her Potions' essay.

'After further examination, I have found the uses of runespoor eggs to far outreach…'

_The nerve of him!_

Her essay was a lost cause for the time being. She moodily shoved her things back into her bag and knocked on the portrait of Godric Gryffindor, who woke up immediately to allow her passage to the Gryffindor common room.

"Have sex with me," Draco said casually as they exited Transfiguration later that week.

"No!"

"Please?" he whined.

"_Please_ stop asking."

"Just one time Granger, that's all I need to convert you. Is that really asking too much?"

"Is it really asking too much to ask you to stop asking me!" she replied exasperatedly, rubbing her temples with her thumbs.

"Obviously."

"You are infuriating."

"You know you like it."

"Ugh…" she groaned at the ceiling, shoving past him and praying to Merlin he wouldn't catch up with her.

"Have sex with me?" he asked her in a sickly sweet voice, batting his eyelashes at her in his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes. She didn't look up from the book she had immersed herself in, so he slumped into the chair across from her, casually leaning back on it and running a hand through his shaggy blonde locks. They were in the secluded back corner of the library, where hardly anyone ventured in to. Draco leaned forward and covered her book with his hand.

"Now will you have sex with me?"

"Ok."

"Really?" he asked, his eyes lighting up.

"NO!" she said, snapping her heavy book shut on his fingers. He pulled them away, shaking the injured digits in the air before inserting his pinky into his mouth. She laughed out loud at him.

"Think that's funny, do you? Well I don't. I may never recover from this. Now you owe it to me to sleep with me."

"In your dreams, Malfoy."

"Is that a promise?"

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"No… not anymore," he said softly, lowering his head and instantly becoming withdrawn from her.

"Oh… I'm sorry," Hermione said consolingly. "What happened?"

"She… she couldn't handle… so much sex… I'm just… so big…" he said, adding a few fake and largely over-exaggerated sobs in for good measure. Incensed, Hermione shoved the table away from her so it knocked into him, grabbed her things and turned on her heel.

"Wait, so is that a yes on the sex then?" he called out after her. Without turning to look at him, she raised her hand in the air in her favorite Muggle gesture, while continuing to storm from the library.

"Have sex with me."

"Don't you have better things to do?"

He looked over his shoulder and shrugged before replying, "No."

"Well find something then, because I do have better things to do than listen to your pathetic attempts to get some."

"Ouch," he said dramatically, faking like a knife was stabbed into his chest. "And to think I brought you a present today…"

"Oh really?"

"Yup." He reached in his bag and pulled out a red lollipop shaped like a heart. Written in white letters were the words 'Kiss Me,' only the word 'Kiss' was crossed out with what looked like permanent marker, and was replaced with the words 'Have sex with'.

"Do you ever just give up?"

"Not until I get what I want."

"And what about Pansy? Don't you love her?"

"You see Granger, love is a funny thing. There is a big difference between love and sex. Sex alleviates tension. Love causes it. So I figure, have sex with the one that loves me the least, and I'll be loose as a goose."

"And people think _you_ are the smart one? Crabbe and Goyle can't possibly have a more twisted view of reality than you do."

"Have sex with me and I'll show you just how twisted I can get," he replied smoothly, wagging his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"Ugh…" she shoved him away from her, and shaking her head, continued on her way to the Gryffindor House table for dinner.

"Did you do the essay for Potions yet?" Draco asked nonchalantly, taking a seat next to her on the common room couch they shared.

"What?" Hermione asked, completely caught off guard.

"Did you do the essay for Potions?"

"Y—"

"Havesexwithme."

"—es"

"Hah!" he shouted triumphantly.

"That doesn't count."

"You said yes… You said yes. Granger wants my balls… Granger wants my balls…" he sang. She pinched him roughly on the shoulder and he stopped in an instant.

"Oww," he mumbled, rubbing his arm. "If you wanted it rough, all you had to do was ask."

"You're really not going to give up, are you?"

"Not until I've had the sweet taste of victory. A little bom-chicka-bom-bom sundae with a Granger cherry on top."

"Fine, if it will get you to shut up, I will sleep with you. On one condition."

"Your wish is my command, my dear."

"You have to hand deliver a singing valentine to every single person in our year, and I'll sleep with you on Valentine's Day."

"WHAT!"

"And Mr. Filch, he looks like he could use a little lovin'," she added as an afterthought.

"That is completely unfair. I have a reputation to protect."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, running her tongue along her upper lip, a devilish glint in her eye.

"You're mean," he grumbled lamely.

"Oh and you can't ask me to sleep with you again until it's done."

"And how do I know that you will really go through with it if I win?"

"I guess you will just have to trust me to not back out on a bet. But if it makes you feel any better, I promise I will have sex with you, if you somehow manage to write and sing a _nice_ valentine for each and every person in our year, and Mr. Filch as well." She held out her hand for him to shake, but he hesitated to take it.

"Is Potter included in this?"

"Of course," she replied sweetly.

A serious inner battle was raging on in Draco's mind. Hermione distinctly heard him mutter something that sounded like "Cruel and unusual punishment" under his breath. After a few choice swear words, and a light sheen of sweat on his brow, he reluctantly took her hand.

"Deal."


	2. Chapter 2

"SING- SING- SING- SING- SING- SING- SING…" the entirety of the Great Hall chanted, pounding their fists on the tables in unison. Slightly red in the face, but deciding to embrace his ridiculous challenge with an open mind, Draco stood up on his chair with his arms out to the side, calling for attention.

"To thy dearest Millicent Bullstrode…" Draco announced in an exaggerated gentlemanly tone, acknowledging the many whistles and catcalls with a nod of his head.

_With hair as soft as caterpillar fur, and shoulders to block out the sun._

_A voice as sweet as hippogriff feet, and breasts that must weigh a ton._

_I know that it would be divine, if one day we dated._

_But the thought that you could kick my ass, leaves me emasculated._

_What's a man to do, oh what's a man to think?_

_Of a woman who, could wear my shoes, and shave in the bathroom sink._

_I'll buy the fastest racing broom, I'll bulk up with some 'roids._

_To ensure that I will wear the pants, with all my manly toys._

_For you only the finest furs, like bear, and mink, and skunk._

_To make up for when the drugs kick in, and my balls have shrunk._

_I should stop this now, before shit hits the fan._

_I just ask one little thing, to feel more like a man._

_Something no one else will have, a world record of sorts._

_Not a gun to shoot a helpless deer, or a closet full of shorts. _

_No, I think if you would just be mine, I'm sure that I would be just fine._

_I'd have the world's largest Valentine. _

There was silence, and a lot of gaping mouths with half-chewed breakfast hanging out the sides. Draco raised an eyebrow, glancing around the room wearily, trying hard not to panic. He hoped beyond hope that he had not just committed social suicide.

Then, at once the hall erupted, so loud that one would think Slytherin had finally taken down Gryffindor for the House Cup. Draco's sly smirk was fixed as he bowed deeply to the howls of laughter and thunderous applause. He made a point to keep Millicent out of his line of site, just incase she wasn't too thick to realize he had actually been mocking her more than average size, and not soliciting a date.

One witch he did fancy a look at, just so happened to be the only occupant of the hall not amused by his performance. Even her two sidekicks were chuckling into their eggs and toast. Hermione however, was just sitting there with a sour look on her face, angrily stabbing her breakfast sausage with a vengeance. Slightly disappointed, Draco took a few more moments to bask in the glory of his poetic success, before lowering himself to sit between Crabbe and Zabini.

"You're next, Zabini," Draco leaned over and whispered into his friend's ear.

"Don't even think about it," Blaise mumbled his response.

"Oh it's been thought," he said, grinning.

"You really think you're going to get with her, don't you?" the dark man asked incredulously. Draco had filled him in on Hermione's little challenge the week before.

"Do Hufflepuffs wet their beds?" he replied smoothly. Blaise just sat there, dumbstruck. The man might have the looks, but he was dimmer than a blast-ended skrewt with a tampon up its blast end.

"The answer is _yes,_ Zabini. Yes I do think I'm going to get with her."

"Well then, good luck with that mate. Better you than me."

"I don't need luck, I've got style, and sex appeal, and a whole lot of other things my mum tells me about. Granger will want me in no time, so there will be no need for her ridiculous deal, and therefore no need to seduce the Gryffindors." Draco stopped to make a retching noise before continuing. "There will be swoonage, that I can guarantee."

"Well your 'swoonee' just stormed from the hall, and it seems she forgot to wear her 'I Swoon for Cocky Slytherins' t-shirt. That must be why she looks so pissed."

Draco's face fell when he realized his friend was right for once. He only caught the back of her bushy head before she disappeared through the double doors. He quickly snatched his bag and took off after her, without a second thought or another word to his friends, who didn't even question his hasty departure. If only he could be as engaging as breakfast sausage…

"Oy, Granger! What's your hurry?" he called out once he had caught up to her on the staircase leading off the Entrance Hall. She let out a frustrated groan, but didn't stop to acknowledge his presence.

"Nice day, isn't it?" he asked good-naturedly, but still got no response. "Poet was one talent I never knew I had, but now, thanks to you, I can add it to the very long list. So, did you enjoy the show?" They had reached the landing, and Hermione was about to turn in the direction of the library, but instead she spun around to face him.

"No, actually I did NOT enjoy the show! In fact, I HATED the show! I can feel my kippers regurgitating themselves just thinking about it!" she shouted at him.

"That's because kippers are nasty," he stated bluntly.

"Ugh! You are so bloody annoying!"

"Ugh!" he mocked her. "This was so bloody your idea!"

"It was a joke, Malfoy. As in 'ha, ha, funny, funny,' not to be taken seriously JOKE!"

"And how was I supposed to know that?" he asked her with a sneer, getting annoyed at her superior attitude.

"You're Head Boy for Merlin's sake! You're _supposed_ to have half a brain!"

"_You_ shook on it! You can't just shake on a joke! That's just as good as a magical contract!"

"Yes but you weren't supposed to do it! The whole point of the deal was to get you to stop bothering me for sex!"

"Pshh… not likely, Granger."

"Why?" she asked him seriously.

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to sleep with me so badly that you'd stand up and make a fool of yourself in front of the entire school! Why is it that you haven't said but two words to me until we were instated Head Boy and Girl and now I can't get you to leave me alone! You've said it yourself, you can get any girl you want, so why ME!"

Draco opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. It was easy to tell his friends why he wanted her. She was like the only peach in school that no one had taken a bite out of yet, or even licked the fuzzy part. Also, they had to share a common room and a bathroom for the whole year, which was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. It was almost like the school wanted them to do it, to have smarter babies or something. Then there was the fact that she was actually kind of sexy, in an angry and semi-scary kind of way.

These reasons were all well and good to tell his male housemates because they suited the image he was trying to project, but they would not work on Hermione. Truth be told, he didn't know if his prior rationale was even the truth! He'd never given it that much thought, he just knew he wanted her. He knew he fantasized about her on more than one occasion, in more than one compromising position. He knew that he pictured gripping her bushy hair, while another girl's mouth was hard at work on his manhood, no matter how perfect a mane the suckling girl might have possessed. He also knew that it was 'Hermione' he called out during his morning wanks, despite whomever he might have bedded the night before. He knew all this, and yet he was clueless to why he wanted _her_, why it was _her_ in his dreams, when he really could have any girl he saw fit.

Not wanting to lie to her, and wanting to say something so he didn't look like a dim-witted idiot, he told her the only truth he could think of.

"I… I don't know… I guess… I just… do," he shrugged. She looked him straight in the eye, her brows furrowed.

"That's just not going to be good enough."

With that she quickly turned and retreated, leaving Draco alone in the empty hallway, too stunned by his own confusing admittance to follow her.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco allowed two days for Hermione to cool down before he put on another performance. He wasn't going to give up, no matter how many lectures he had to endure from the Head Girl. He never thought something so ridiculous could get him so much attention from the opposite sex. All over school, girls kept stopping him to tell him they couldn't wait for their Valentine, while the men looked on enviously. All except Blaise, which made what Draco was about to do all the more enjoyable.

"Eat it," Draco said in a low whisper.

"But—" Gregory Goyle stammered, staring fixedly at the mangled blob of sweets he had hidden behind his propped up book, out of the prying eyes of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Paloma Popper. She was like a woman version of Snape, only she favored the Gryffindors over the other houses.

Draco had gotten on her bad side during their very first lesson together. She had overheard him giving a vivid description of the slip-and-slide style sex the 'Pimple Popper' and Snape would have, and deducted 30 points from Slytherin. Draco's attempt to redeem himself by saying that he was only marveling on the fact that fate could bring two greasy vultures together, didn't appease her. In fact, it earned him a months worth of detentions.

Needless to say, he was not in a hurry to push her buttons again. He would have chosen a different class to present his poem in, but his two buffoon sidekicks hadn't made it in to most of the classes he was taking, and they were necessary for a distraction. Snape had already warned him that he was not to be caught making any more scenes in the Great Hall and embarrassing his house. The old git obviously had no sense of humor.

"Don't do it Goyle," Blaise snarled from the other side of the table.

"But—"

"Don't listen to Zabini, when have I ever put you in harms way?" Draco quickly retorted.

"Well—"

"Well plenty of times!" Blaise interrupted, pounding his fist on the table for emphasis.

"Then what's one more little time?" the blonde asked innocently, putting his hand on his obese friend's shoulder in a soothing manner. Goyle took the multi-colored candy and held it in his hand, his eyes wide with fear. It was the skiving sweet to end all sweets. A fainting fancy, fever fudge, puking pastille, and ton-tongue toffee, all melded together to form the massive ball that would cause the ultimate distraction. Goyle let out a squeak that sounded like a deflating balloon, bringing the candy to his mouth, but chickening out at the last second.

"Damn it, Goyle! If that candy isn't down your throat in the next five seconds, I'll force feed it to you and refuse to hand over the antidote!" Draco growled in his most threatening sneer, withdrawing the candy blob that consisted of the other halves of the skiving snacks from his school bag. Draco had conveniently forgotten to mention that the ton-tongue toffee didn't come with an antidote.

"But—but if I've passed out, how am I even supposed to swallow the other halves?"

"Look, that isn't important right now. Just stick to what your good at, which is eating, and leave the thinking to me…. or else."

That had done it. With one last fleeting look at Blaise, who was now pouting in his seat with his arms crossed, turned away from the proceedings, Goyle closed his eyes and swallowed the candy whole.

Dumb people were so easily manipulated.

Draco casually stuck the antidote blob into Goyle's front pocket, and waited for the show to begin. It wasn't an instantaneous reaction, perhaps because so many ailments had to fight to show themselves first. It seemed the fever fudge was winning the battle. Sweat started beading on Goyle's forehead, and flowed down the bridge of his nose. He stumbled blindly out of his seat and into the isle, where he fell to his knees and ended up on all fours.

Then came the puking, and not just any puking. This was the vomiting of a man who ate his weight in food at every meal, so naturally it had the class scrambling from their seats to get as far away as possible. They need not have worried, however. The partially digested cuisine ended up in a neat little pile, as it had exited his mouth down a four-foot long tongue that it had used like a waterslide. How resourceful.

Once the vomiting and sweating had subsided, Goyle shakily got to his feet, feeling around in the front of his robes. Draco immediately started to panic. Goyle hadn't even had a chance to faint yet and he was going to take the antidote! No, Draco couldn't let that happen. Brandishing his wand discreetly at his side, he sent a silent trip jinx, and it hit perfectly on the mark.

At this point, a lot of things happened very quickly. Goyle stumbled forward and slipped on his neat little pile of puke. The weight of his engorged tongue caused his body to spin around, and the tongue followed in pursuit, smacking him in the arse with an echoing snapping sound. He then proceeded to faint, from the candy or the shock of getting slapped in the ass with his own giant tongue, it was impossible to tell, but faint he did. He hit the ground and sprayed the nearby desks with a shower of vomit. A chorus of "Eww" was heard from along the walls.

The professor just stared with one eyebrow raised. That was as much as her expression ever changed, really.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you could please escort Mr. Goyle here to the Hospital Wing."

No he certainly could not! That would make all his hard work and Goyle's unfortunate but unavoidable suffering be in vain!

It was moments like this that separated the Slytherins from the rest of the school, and Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin, through and through.

"Goyle! Oh dear God Goyle, what have they done to you! Why! Oh Merlin WHY! He was so… so young... Didn't deserve… Oh the humanity! Why! WHY!" A few more wails of "why" into the ceiling before he was overcome with his fake breakdown, and was reduced to 'sobbing' with his head hidden behind his arms on his desk. Though the professor did not look sympathetic, she did wave her wand and levitate the slimy blob of her very worst student.

"It seems that I will be accompanying Mr. Goyle to the infirmary. Ms. Granger, Mr. Mal—ah, Ms. Granger, you are in charge in my absence."

The instant the door clicked shut, Draco's sobs had ceased and he gracefully leapt to stand on his desk.

"Can I have your attention?" he called out to the class, who were slowly edging their ways back into their seats.

"Malfoy I swear if you say one word—"

"Shush Zambeano you're better seen not heard," Draco waved him off. "Granger over here, I guarantee I'm easier on the eyes than the written word!"

Hermione slowly turned in her seat, and she did not look pleased.

"At-at-ah Granger," he quickly cut her off before the impending speech on 'right and wrong,' and a whole other lot of bollocks meant for lesser beings. "Might I point out to you that if you were to hinder the progress of the challenge _you_ presented me, that would be cheating. Which would mean that you'd forfeit. Which would mean that _I_ would reign victorious. So unless you want me to win…" he trailed off for maximum impact. Hermione's open mouth snapped shut, and she seemed to settle on glowering ominously but silently. Silence was key. He'd won.

_Muahaha… _

He cleared his throat in his fist, trying not to look _too_ pleased with himself. "Now… where was I before I was so rudely interrupted… Oh yes…Hem, hem."

_He's pretty. He's witty. He wipes his own ass. _

_He's dirty. He's flirty. He'll catch you a bass. _

_There once was a saying, I know for a fact._

_That once you go black, you'll never go back. _

_So gentlemen, any men, open your eyes. _

_With an hour of primping, it's def no surprise. _

_Teen dream, drama queen, a diva in the making. _

_Hogwarts' own flaming bachelor is here for the taking._

_The sausage of sausages, the pick of the meat._

_His name is Zabini, he's surely a treat!_

The crowd roared with laughter and showered him with applause… all eleven of them. It would have been thirteen, if Blaise wasn't so busy shooting daggers with his eyes, and Hermione wasn't concentrating on rolling hers. _Who needs them,_ Draco thought with a shrug. After all, thirteen was a very unlucky number.

"That's right, soak it all up you contemptible dickhead," Zabini growled.

"What?" Draco asked, feigning innocence. "That was some of my finest work. I might have even managed to score you a date!"

"Yes but I'm not gay you big arse!"

"Oh please, you can't even insult me without using the words 'dick' and 'arse.' If that isn't gay, Midgen isn't ugly."

Blaise mumbled incoherently to himself for a minute before responding. "I am _not_ gay!"

"Pshh… tell that to your straightening iron," Malfoy replied with a devious little half-smirk. It was lucky that the professor had chosen that very second to come bustling through the door, because Draco was quite certain that his friend was seconds away from jumping him. He was in no hurry to be manhandled by the man he had just dubbed 'the sausage of sausages.'

After classes for the day had come to an end, Draco set off in search of Hermione. Naturally he headed straight for the library, but he hadn't even made it to the fourth floor before he was roughly thrown into a wall, and he was shocked to see that Granger was his attacker.

"Granger! What the—"

"Shush, you've done your fair share of talking for the day and now it's my turn. I don't know how you have managed to take what should have been a horrible and embarrassing challenge, and made it into something people praise you for, but it needs to stop NOW. I don't want to sleep with you! I—I don't even know you! This isn't all fun and games, it is my life you're messing with!" she finished, her voice starting to crack from the strain. Draco's face immediately softened, and so did Hermione's grip on his robes.

"Granger I—err… Look, did you ever think that this is only fun for me because it's my friends? I've sung to two people, who were both in my house. Once I've finished off the Slytherins I can guarantee it won't be so easy for me. I mean what am I going to say? Oh Longbottom, you have no brains? That's hardly poetry, that's just common knowledge."

And this was the woman he wanted to sleep with? This beast of a woman who could make him spout horrible, almost _nice_ sentiments to try and comfort her! What was the world coming to!

'I can guarantee this won't be so easy for me…' He shuddered at the remembrance. Greeting cards didn't even contain so much cheese. The whole 'being a slightly decent human being' thing was seriously overrated, and would have to stop before he died of cheesefestation.

_I should just ditch the good looks and sex appeal and call myself Potter Jr. while I'm at it. _

While Draco was deep in thought, Hermione was trying her best to convince herself that his snarky sarcasm made him even more of an arse, and not someone who's arse she wanted to snack on. "That's not very nice, you know," she said softly, when no other wise words of wisdom graced her with their presence.

"And your point?"

_Ah yes, much better._

"Ugh," she groaned, pushing him into the wall once more, then turning on her heel and storming down the hall. Draco only just managed to catch up with her before she snuck through a tapestry. He slipped his arm around hers and made her turn to face him. He had had a whole two seconds to think about what he was about to propose to her, so naturally it felt like a grand idea. For the time being at least.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I have a proposition for you…"


	4. Chapter 4

"Date me." The words were out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think them over.

"What!" Hermione shrieked, looking at him as if he had grown another head. Draco inconspicuously glanced at his shoulder, to make sure he _hadn't_ grown an extra head. No, all seemed normal on the shoulder front, but there had to be something else bamboozling his brain. Draco Malfoy didn't 'date' any witch, he charmed his way into their knickers and then hung them out to dry. Dating was for people who hadn't been blessed with Grecian good looks.

_Hermione doesn't care that you're really, really, really, ridiculously good looking…_

What a weirdo. Granger was definitely like no other witch he had ever met, but perhaps that was what attracted him to her?

_Oh Merlin… does that mean I'm—that I'm—_

It was too horrible to even be granted mental consideration, because what Draco had _thought_ that he was almost about to _think,_ was that maybe his unknown attraction to Hermione Granger was more than skin deep. Maybe Draco wasn't as shallow as he portrayed himself to be… Maybe it was more than just sex with her?"

_No, it can't be…_

"Excuse me?" Hermione interrupted, impatiently tapping her foot—just one of her many annoyingly adorable habits. Draco was startled and unsure of what she was excusing. Had he accidentally said something out loud?

"What?" he asked, having completely lost the thread of their conversation.

"You were telling me to date you, are you insane?"

_Possibly… Probably…Without a doubt… _

"No! You said before that you didn't know me. So, I'm giving you the chance to get to know me before I win an all expense paid trip down under." He smirked. She scowled. Finally things were getting back to normal.

"Why would I ever agree to that?"

"Because it is for _your_ benefit!" It was, wasn't it? There wasn't any way he would gain from spending more forced time with her, right? It was just the whole conscious and… ugh… _feelings_ coming into play without invitation.

"Why would you do it then?" she continued her inquisition.

_Damned if I know…_ Did she have to question everything? Couldn't she just let him do something decent for her without making him feel completely emasculated for it? Figuring out one's own wishy-washy feelings before speaking took a considerable amount of effort that he was not yet willing to put forth. Why couldn't she just leave well enough alone?

"Look, _you_ set me this challenge, I didn't ask you to! I'm trying my best to comply with it, and all you do is make me feel guilty every chance you get! So just accept my gesture, which is a lot more than any other witch in your situation would get, and shut your trap! Even if I gave you one date after every house I finished singing to, that would still be four times as many dates than 99.9 percent of the girls I've bedded have gotten. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" For not knowing why he suddenly wanted to court her, he sure had a lot to say on the subject. If only she would say something now. He felt awkward standing there with her, breathing hard like he had run a marathon, while she just openly stared at him. He wasn't some exhibit on display to be ogled at! He was just about to tell her so when she finally spoke up.

"Fine."

_Fine what? Shit, what were they talking about again?_

"What?"

She rolled her eyes and stamped her foot in frustration at his obvious lack of attentiveness before replying, "I'll go on one date with you after you finish every house."

His eyes instantly lit up like they never had before. That was definitely not a normal reaction. He shouldn't have wanted her to consent! Secretly wishing she had refused his proposal, so then he could continue on his mission to bed her without feeling guilty, was a much more acceptable response.

Perhaps the house-elves were putting something in the pumpkin juice… If he could just catch the little buggers he would give them a piece of his mind!

"…Or not if that's how you're going to react," Hermione mumbled. Draco instantly snapped to attention. He hadn't even realized he was wringing his hands out in front of him and his face was set in a crazy, evil grin.

_Damn house-elves!_

"No sorry err…" he said, forcing his arms to his sides. "I get to pick what we do on the dates, since I'm making most of the sacrifices in this," he spat out quickly, not really expecting her to agree, so when she did he was completely thrown off guard.

"Yeah sure, whatever," she sighed. "Are we done here?" she asked impatiently.

Thinking he was on a roll, he decided to test his luck, ignoring the dismissive way she was treating him. "And you can't just pout the whole time, you have to at least _pretend_ like you're enjoying yourself."

That got her attention. She opened her mouth to retaliate, but he ran his first.

"_Now_ we're done here." Not waiting for a response, he combed his fingers through his hair, shot her a well rehearsed, knicker-wetting smirk, and casually turned to leave.

"Err! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he heard her muttering to herself as she fled in the opposite direction.

Ah, victory was sweet.

A week later, he was well on his way to his first date with Granger. He had to constantly remind himself that the dates were for _her_ benefit, and that they were just an obligation to him, though that's not how he felt. Truth be told, he had been thinking of nothing but his alone time with Hermione and what they would do. It sickened him that he wanted to show her a good time out of the bed as well as in it.

The whole thing was insanely uncharacteristic of him, but he decided he didn't care. His friends still thought he was cool. Sure, he suspected Blaise was plotting revenge (or seduction, he wasn't certain) against him, but the rest (all… how many friends did he have?) thought he was 'the man'. He was going to get with the one girl in school that not even Perfect Potter or McLaggen the self-proclaimed ladies man could manage. As far as his house was concerned, that practically made him a hero. Of course, Granger would have never considered all this when setting him the challenge. _Silly girl…_

Speaking of silly girls, he was currently in search of the one silly girl that stood between a Friday night with Hermione, and one spent getting sloppy with the Slytherins. He had saved the worst for last—the very worst.

"Pansy could you just stop for two minutes so I can get this over with?" he gritted out. It was bad enough he had to seek out his ex. She didn't have to make it even more humiliating by running away from him.

"Just leave me alone!" Pansy shrieked, her shrill voice getting the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

_Super._

She continued to scurry up the stairs on their way to charms with her upturned nose in the air. The nerve of her! Draco decided to just go for it since she obviously wasn't going to acknowledge him, and started yelling his lyrics while he followed a few paces behind her.

_Roses are red,_

_Violets are violet. _

_I'd say Pansy's are pretty,_

_But no one would buy it. _

_They may look nice on a table,_

_But not in a bed._

_Where I do all the work,_

_And they just lie there dead. _

_But I'm not bitter,_

_I'm not even mad._

_As far as girlfriends go,_

_You're the only one I've ever had._

_We're broken up now,_

_It's quite the stunner._

_We can't be Valentines,_

_Oh what a bummer. _

He said the last part so low and with such little enthusiasm that he was surprised Pansy didn't turn around to exercise her bitching muscle. But she just ignored it, glaring at anyone who applauded or laughed. The onlookers instantly fell silent and went about their business as if nothing had happened. They were scared of Pansy. How was the possible? She couldn't possibly be more threatening than Millicent Bullstrode for Merlin's sake!

As he looked around at his fellow students, who were all purposefully looking the other way, he realized that they _were_ afraid of Pansy's wrath. He made a mental note of that, bit down the uncomfortable feeling in his gut and the disappointment that his poem hadn't been more well received, and turned his focus to what he should do for his Granger date.

One Charms class later and he had the perfect plan, and he was _way_ too excited about it, but what the hell. No one had to know about that. Every man was allowed one dirty little secret—or twelve, but who was counting?

He caught up with Granger after dinner to make their date.

"So did you catch my latest bout of poetic brilliance?"

"Unfortunately," she scowled.

"So you know what that means?"

"Unfortunately," she scowled again.

"Don't sound so enthused, I think you're forgetting that I'm doing this for _your_ benefit." He didn't mention that _he_ was also forgetting this little bit of information.

"So sue me," she glowered. For a second she almost thought she saw disappointment flash in his eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure. Perhaps it would be best to make the most of it and concede without a fight. After all, he really didn't have to go on these 'dates' with her. She was stuck in a wizard contract to go through with the deal if he kept up his end, but that was the problem! She was just so mad at him for actually taking her silly challenge seriously that she found it almost impossible not to have an attitude with him.

This was not the right way to think about the situation; she needed to stay positive. He did still have three houses to go, and they would just consecutively get harder for him. Maybe if she got lucky this first date would be the last. And if not, perhaps it _would_ be better to get to know the man she would sleep with.

"Sorry…" she muttered, plastering a fake smile on her face. "When do you want to do this?"

"Tomorrow is Friday night, so I'm sure _you're _free. I suppose I can sacrifice one Friday for the greater good," he replied pompously. After the words were out he didn't know why he said them. It seemed it was just in his blood to strive to rile her feathers. It was just so easy he couldn't help it.

"What makes you think I don't have plans?" she asked with a well-deserved bite to her tone.

"Do you?"

"Yes," she lied.

"The library closes at eight, Granger."

"Fine! Tomorrow it is!" she yelled, throwing her hands up in defeat and stalking away from him.

"See you at eight then!" he called out to her.

_There goes that finger of hers again…_

He smirked at her retreating form, shaking his head in search of some clarity, but there was none to be found.

The first house-elf to cross his path was seriously going to get it.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N- Thank everyone so very much for reviewing. It really means a lot!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the HP world or make any money by writing this.

Hermione sighed deeply at her reflection in the large bathroom mirror, but her anxiety was not what stared back at her. In fact, her mirror-self was positively beaming, thanks in part to the now empty bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. She hadn't gone to the library, instead she had primped and powdered herself to her heart's desire, and for a date she shouldn't even want to be a part of! And _this_ was what she had to show for it. This—this _stranger_ smiling and nodding her head in encouragement as Hermione slowly combed her fingers through her gleaming brunette locks.

She shot her reflection a death-glare, who in turn rolled its eyes before shaking away the false image and resuming its rightful place as an inanimate object. To Hermione's great surprise and absolute horror, the only thing that changed was her expression: from giddy, to glaring, to astonishment, but everything else was the same.

Her eyes were still shadowed with thick black lashes, her cheeks still accentuated with a light blush, and her hair... her trademark bush of frizz… was now nothing short of perfection. Perfectly frizz free ringlets framed her face and cascaded halfway down her back. Light reflected in each and every strand, sending off a shimmer of gold whenever she moved her head to the side. She twirled a solitary curl around her finger and was completely caught off guard at the softness.

She sighed again at her reflection, only this time it sighed back at her. The truth finally sunk in. She, Hermione bookworm Granger, looked pretty. Maybe even pretty by Malfoy standards. Pretty hair that no longer hid her pretty eyes, and she found that she actually liked her appearance for the first time in her life. A single thought pushed itself to the forefront of her mind…

_I wonder what Malfoy will think…_

She shook her head and closed her eyes, blocking out the image of the pretty girl in the mirror. She couldn't do this. She couldn't look like she _tried_ to look nice for _him__._

She shot her reflection one last longing glance before turning to the tap on the bathtub. Kneeling over the edge of the basin, she stuck her head under the running water and rinsed the pretty hair down the drain.

Ten minutes later and she was walking down the spiral stairs into the shared common room where she knew Malfoy would be waiting for her. She had taken her hair to the opposite extreme of the well-tamed mane. She didn't even bother drying it off, she just shook it upside-down and towel dried it as best she could.

"Hello there Granger, don't you look umm… nice," he said, standing up from the couch and trying in vain to bite back the sarcasm.

"No I don't," she replied bluntly.

"True… you look like a right drowned beaver. What exactly have you been doing in our bathroom for over an hour?"

Incensed and trying to hide her embarrassment that he knew how long she had been in the bathroom (not having anything to show for it she didn't want to know what he was thinking… _Farting, and pooping, and periods, oh my!_), she stalked past him and moodily threw herself to sit on the couch. She was about to put her feet up on the coffee table, but it was covered in little glasses full of amber liquid.

"What is this?" she asked, gesturing to the array of glasses.

"20 Shots, Granger." Malfoy shrugged, his lips curving into a smirk. "For our date."

"You're trying to get me drunk! What will we do next time, drugs? Prostitutes?" she shrieked. "Naked runs through the Great Hall!"

"Relax, it's just a game, though I wouldn't object to you running naked through my mashed potatoes," he said, wagging his eyebrows. "I thought it would be a good way to get to know one another."

"We can't drink! We're Head Boy and Girl and we are supposed to set an example for everyone else!"

"I think McGonagall and Dumbledore can handle that for one night so their very _of age_ and responsible students can take a break. You said I could pick what we do, and this is what I want to do. You may not even get drunk you know… if you're good at this… But I have to warn you, I am the reigning champ over in Slytherin."

He knew this would get her. Hermione Granger didn't like to be second best at anything, even—he hoped—silly drinking games. He smirked and took a seat beside her while she dealt with her inner goody-two-shoes, and waited patiently for her to concede.

"Now, I'm not saying I'm agreeing to play this game… this '20 Shots' or whatever you're calling it. I just think that it wouldn't hurt to hear the rules is all. So… how do we play?"

Trying not to look too pleased with himself, he started explaining the rules of the game. "Well we start off with 20 shots of alcohol, and the game ends when they're gone. We take turns asking each other questions, and the questionee either has to answer the question, remove an article of clothing, or take a shot. The loser is the one who takes the last drink."

Hermione pursed her lips and sucked her cheek, contemplating these rules. Only one thing stuck in her mind. "What is the point of this game?"

"What do you mean? Either you get drunk or you get to watch the loser get drunk. It's just fun, Granger. Fun doesn't have to have a point."

She continued to mull over the information. "Well what makes someone 'good' at it?"

He smirked widely at this.

"You have to ask the right questions, the ones that you know won't get answered."

"And what if you just lie?"

"You get a pimple," he replied casually. "So what do you say? You think you're woman enough to take down the champ?"

"What do I get if I win?" she asked, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to make itself known. She was kind of excited at the prospect of getting the dirt on Malfoy, but she still didn't want him to know that.

"Not likely Granger… But I suppose in the extremely improbable chance that you do somehow manage to beat me, I'll let you pick what we do on the next date. So are you in?"

"If I go through with this you can't just go spouting all you hear to your friends! That just wouldn't be right and—"

"R-E-L-A-X! Nothing we say can go beyond the game, it's in the spell."

"What spell?"

He sighed and buried his head in his hands. Maybe she _would_ win this, he was already sick of her questioning. "Are we going to play or not?" he asked with an impatient sigh.

She took a fleeting look around the room, somehow expecting Dumbledore to come bustling through the door to expel her, but the eccentric old man was nowhere in sight. Even the portraits on the wall had found better things to do, and were just ornate frames with blank canvases. Really, what was one night of fun?

She slumped back into the couch and let out a feeble "yes" of approval.

"Finally! My God I almost had to take a shot just to survive the contemplation period!" he said in a huff. At the look of death she shot him, he hurried to change the subject. "But that is beside the point, now just repeat after me: I will, I will play the game, 'til I'm naked, zitty, and don't know my name."

Rolling her eyes, she said the chant and waited for him to start.

"So are you a virgin, Granger?" he asked, getting right down to business.

"WHAT! You can't just ask me that! That's personal!" she shrieked.

"That, my friend, is the point of the game. Now you already agreed to play, so I suggest you do so unless you want to look like Eloise Midgen."

"Fine!" she snapped. She then lifted her leg, pulled off one of her black ballet flats and chucked it across the room. He was going to get it for that one. "Why do you hate Harry?"

Malfoy's smirk turned into a silent gasp. She was good, he would give her that, but he wasn't the champ for nothing. "I see you're playing dirty," he said, raising a single eyebrow in approval. He then took off one of his own shoes and threw it to lie beside hers.

"Have you ever had a fantasy about me?"

"Yes." He had a fraction of a second to get excited before she continued. "You were falling off your broom into a tub of blast-ended skrewts."

He searched her face, but her skin remained blemish free.

"Damn… I didn't see that one coming," he mumbled to himself. She laughed out loud.

"Aww did I hurt that big ego of yours?"

"No!"

The look on his face said otherwise, but she didn't delve into it. "Have you ever had a sexual thought about a professor?" she asked him.

"Yes."

She gasped audibly. "Who!"

"One question at a time, woman! Now, who do you prefer, Pothead or Weasel-poo?"

She took off her other shoe and it joined its partner. So far, the many glasses of what she suspected to be fire whiskey lay untouched. "What teacher did you fantasize about, _and_ what did it entail?"

"Why you little pervert, I never knew you had it in you," he stated incredulously, dodging the elbow she aimed his way. "If you must know it was Trelawny and I pounded her from behind while she moaned about my Inner Eye and Crystal Balls."

Having never liked the Divination professor much, Hermione cracked up laughing and Draco followed suit. It took Draco a whole five minutes before he could catch his breath and resume the game.

Forty minutes later and things were really starting to get interesting. Half the shots were gone, as well as their socks, shoes, watches, and belts. To Hermione's utmost horror, she found she was actually enjoying herself. The alcohol had made her feel warm and giddy, and some of the answers Draco was giving weren't helping the situation.

"What is the hottest lingerie you own?" Draco asked her. She could still feel the burn of the last shot still lingering in her throat, and she was out of mundane articles of clothing to remove. She stared at her lap and gritted her teeth. "A red thong…" she mumbled under her breath.

"What was that?"

"A red thong! A lacey red thong! Happy now!"

Draco's chin hit the floor.

"Happy isn't exactly the right word. Shocked as all hell would be more like it."

"Just because I like to read doesn't mean I'm not a girl you know."

"Dually noted," he replied, impressed and more than a little turned on.

"Umm… when did you lose your virginity?" she asked him timidly. Once the words were out she quickly covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes bugging wide. She couldn't believe she just asked that! More importantly, she couldn't believe that she wanted to know! _Eek!_ Alcohol was definitely bringing out a different side of her tonight.

"Hmm…" he said, pondering the question. "Fifth year, Tracey Davis… Have you ever had sex?"

"You already asked that!"

"Nope, I asked if you were a virgin, there is no rule against rewording the questions."

"Fine," she pouted, downing another shot of the amber liquid and grimacing as it burned its way down her esophagus. "Were you any good your first time?"

She had got him. Good. If he told her the truth she would laugh in his face, but if he took a drink she would get the answer anyhow. If he lied he would get a zit and she would know that he lied. He was cornered, and there was only one thing to do. He swallowed his pride and grunted a low, "No." When she didn't laugh at him he looked up at her, only to find her staring thoughtfully at him. "What? This is your chance to gloat Granger, I suggest you take advantage as it will be probably be your last."

She seemed to snap out of her thoughts and laughed, but Draco couldn't help but to notice that it sounded forced. This made up his mind about his next question to ask her.

"Why didn't you laugh at me just now?"

She blushed scarlet and sunk further into the couch, only fueling Draco's curiosity. Unfortunately however, she reached out and took another shot instead of answering.

_Damn it! I'll get this one out of her yet…_

"How bad were you?" she asked with a sly grin.

"You aren't going to give up on this are you, you sick, cruel, MEAN woman!"

She quickly shook her head no, her face hot and her evil smirk fixed.

"Fine," he mumbled. Then, deciding he might as well do the thing right, he elaborated. "It was horrible, worst experience of my life. By the time I found the right hole it was all over."

This time Hermione really did laugh, long and hard.

"It's not _that_ funny, Granger," he gritted out.

She tried to stop laughing and bent her head so he couldn't see her face, snorting at random intervals until he gave in and laughed along with her.

"Now it's your turn, and I think it's only fair that you answer this time. Why did you internally sympathize with me when I admitted to being bad the first time?"

Hermione sucked in her lower lip and twiddled her thumbs in her lap. To tell or not to tell… that was the question…

"Ok I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh!"

"Pshh," he breathed out. She pinched his shoulder rather roughly, getting an immediate reaction from him. "Enough with the pinching! I need that skin!" he wailed, swatting away the offending fingers. "I won't laugh! Keep your knick—I mean your sexy red thong on, and start spilling with the goods."

She snorted in laughter at this for some reason, though she knew she _should_ be mad at the sexual reference to her undergarments. "Err… Ok I—we—I mean, Ron and I, we… Well we tried to have sex, ok! And well… we were both virgins and we were kissing and stuff and then we—oh God I can't believe I'm telling you this! We were going to do it and… and… he… Well, he shot his _stuff_ on my leg and ran away and we never mentioned it or tried to do it again!"

Draco just sat there, open-mouthed, unable to believe his ears. The urge to cry with mirth was overwhelming. The Weasel was a premature ejaculator. _Hah!_ There was a God!

"You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"I'm…. not…" he whimpered, barely moving his lips for fear of bursting.

"I can see it in your face, you're laughing at me inside that thick skull of yours!"

"No, no, no, no, no… Firstly, just let me make one thing perfectly clear. If I was to laugh, it wouldn't be at you, it would be with you, and we would both be laughing _at_ the Weasel. Secondly, I feel for you, I really do, because two virgins just aren't meant to be. Now, one virgin and one blonde, handsome and now _exceptionally_ experienced Slytherin… Well… that's just a match made in sexual heaven!"

"But I never answered your virgin question."

"What, you're not!"

"At-at-ah Malfoy, I believe it's my turn to do the asking…"


	6. Chapter 6

"Now I know the guys shower in the nude after quidditch, and I know that after almost six years of naked showers you have to have noticed umm… things. So, who's got the biggest erm… equipment on the Slytherin team?" Hermione's face was on fire, but it was almost worth it to see Draco gawk at her. Besides, she was only asking these questions so she could win the game, she didn't actually want to know these things, right?

_Liar, liar, pimply pants on fire!_

"Damn Granger…" Draco growled. She had gotten him again. If he took a drink she would know he wasn't the most well equipped, because if he was he would just say it. He had seriously underestimated her when he planned this date. He expected her to ask him what his favorite book was, what he wanted to be when he grew up, and if he preferred butterflies or little kitty cats.

_Kitty cats, hands down… they're purrrty... _

…_And now I must be killed._

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Cat got your tongue?"

_Damn, she's good!_

"No, I'm just strategizing is all." He really wanted to win this. There was no point in wasting a shot on himself when she would know that he wasn't the biggest wiener at the barbeque either way. It wasn't like he was small! He had a good penis, damn it! It had served him well, and he was letting it down! He loved his jewels (more than was healthy during the rare dry spell), and he shouldn't be ashamed! He should stand proud, like his forefathers before him!

"It's Goyle!" he cried out. "Goyle and his freakishly large elephant trunk that puts the rest of us to shame! But I am a close second, well, I am second and—and I am proud!" he bellowed with his fist punching the air.

"Merlin Malfoy, I wanted an answer not a theatrical performance. And that is nothing to be ashamed of, I'm sure you'll grow up someday," she said in a motherly voice, patting him on the shoulder.

"You're a horrible, horrible woman."

"That may be, but at the end of the day, you're the one with the wittle peeper."

"All right Granger, you asked for it," he growled sourly, in a hurry turn the subject from his parts, which was definitely a first for him. "How far have you gotten?"

It was a night for surprises, that much was certain. Instead of taking a shot, Hermione's nimble fingers went to her blouse and slowly worked their way down the buttons. A minute later her shirt was hung neatly over the back of the couch. And there they were. It was as if the ceiling parted for the sun to come through and shine its light solely upon the two luscious mounds before him.

_HAAAA-llelujah!_

"Holy Hell, you have _boobs!_" he exclaimed, unable to control himself. She opened her mouth to tell him off, but the alcohol seemed to take that moment to affect her, so instead she found herself laughing hysterically.

On and on it went, laughing, and gasping, and disrobing, until only one shot remained. Hermione was in her bra and knickers, which to Draco's slight disappointment, were just plain white cotton, but knickers they were. Draco on the other hand, was sporting a stylish decorative pillow.

"Hmm… are you a masturbator, or a masturbator hater?" Draco asked her.

"Malfoy! I—you—I err…" she squeaked. She was out of clothes to take off and she was not going to become a statistic and get naked with him on the first date. She didn't even have a pillow to smack him with anymore, and she didn't trust herself to pinch his bare arms. His creamy, sculpted, drool-worthy, self-stimulating…

"Don't worry Granger, nearly everyone does it when they think about me."

"I don't _do_ it, I've only_ tried_ it… a few… many times."

"That's really hot, just so you know."

She blushed and turned away from him, trying to think of anything but the tickle that just started between her legs.

_Failing grades, failing grades, failing grades!_

She breathed, composing her drunken, horny self as best she could. "So… what is the most romantic thing you've ever done for a girl?"

This woman just continued to impress him. She knew that to the untrained eye, the question wouldn't seem unreasonable, but to Draco Malfoy, who prided himself on his 'poke-em and cloak-em' reputation, answering this question was of the utmost humiliation. Some first date, indeed! He was not about to lose for this though, as now he needed that second date to turn things in his favor and reclaim his long lost masculinity. He swallowed his pride for the millionth time, wrapped his balls in a to-go box since they obviously were no longer needed, and confessed his deepest, darkest secret.

"I was kind of, sort of, _completely_ obsessed with Daphne Greengrass for all of fourth year. I used to send her little love notes and chocolates, and I probably asked her out every other day for a month straight before she agreed. Might I remind you that I was only 14 at the time and hadn't yet grown into this stunning exterior," he said, sounding accusatory for a moment. When Hermione raised her hands as if to say 'no judgment,' he continued.

"Well, I set up candles in the common room, and had the house-elves send up a bottle of sparkling pumpkin juice. I had my new dress robes on and music playing softly… And you know what she did when she saw it? She laughed at me. She said it was too much and that she wasn't ready for 'all that,' but she wouldn't tell anyone."

A sudden understanding washed over Hermione at his confession. He was so set on being a 'Sex God' because his first love had shot him down, and the cocky veneer was just his way of ensuring he couldn't get hurt like that again. She found herself sighing and looking at him in a new light, as if he was a little puppy. Puppies were still cute even after they destroyed your home and peed in your new shoes, and maybe it could be the same with Malfoy.

If he weren't so naked she would have hugged him, though she may not have wanted to so bad if it weren't for the nakedness. Either way… _Merlin he looks good naked…_

"No need to fret, Grangie, I've outgrown the vagina so it _will_ be physically possible for us to do it when the time comes. Which brings me to my next, and _final_ question. I'm too drunk to reword the virgin one and I know that sooner or later it will come out, so I'll let it slide. Now, does a part of you secretly want me to succeed in the challenge so you'll have an excuse to bed me?"

Hermione was about to shout 'NO' (and mean it too!), but before the words could escape, her brain caught up, and she was second-guessing herself. She no longer knew the answer to that question. If she said no and grew a pimple, then he would know she wanted to, and worse, _she_ would know she wanted to! Was it worth a pimple just to keep the game going, even if it meant that he would know she lied and actually wanted to sleep with him? Wait, did she want to or was she just over thinking this! Why was thinking so difficult all of a sudden! Why was she thinking about thinking!

_Stupid naked Draco and alcohol induced brain!_

She picked up the shot glass, brought it to her lips, and set it back down.

"You know I'm just taking this to end the game because I'm tired, no other reason. And if we were playing fairly we wouldn't even be on this date, because your version of a nice Valentine is talking about Millicent's caterpillar fur hair!"

"Well have you ever petted a caterpillar?" Malfoy asked calmly.

"No, but—"

"Then how would you know that a caterpillar isn't soft? As far as you know, I was complementing her."

"That's not all you did! What about Blaise! You basically told the whole class that your best friend was gay!"

"Granger! I am shocked at you!" he gasped, sounding seriously affronted. "I thought you of all people wouldn't be a rainbow bashing homophobe!"

"I'm not at all but—"

"Well then why is it bad if I suggested that Blaise was gay?" he cut her off again. "The man wears lip-gloss and matches his silk boxers to the tint of it. Maybe I was just helping him out of the closet."

"Ok, but what about Pansy! Saying how she just lies there dead in bed is definitely mean!"

"Au contraire, I didn't say _Pansy_ lies there dead, I said _pansies_ lie there dead. That's just fact, Granger! You put a pansy on a table in some water and it's fine, but lay one in a bed and well, it will die! I just thought I would brush up the school with a little fun, flower facts!"

"But—but—" Hermione whined, not yet willing to surrender the victory to Malfoy, the fact that the fire whiskey was surfing her bloodstream with renewed strength not helping the situation. And to think this all started with a simple inquiry on her sexual experience…

_Alas! A light bulb! _

"You asked the first question, so to be fair I would have to ask a question and you would have to answer it in order for you to win. Hah! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, I got you!" she sung, sticking out her tongue because of course, that was the only way to _really_ make one's point.

"Fine, ask away my befuddled little booze-hound," he challenged, leaning back with his hands folded on his pillow and giving her his undivided attention. Her eyes zoned in on his hands, on the pillow, on his….

"Can you put that thingy away I can't think clearly!"

"What, this?" he asked innocently, reaching for the pillow he was using as a loincloth. Hermione squealed and dove to the floor with her head hidden under her arms, giving Malfoy a glorious view of her rear end. A second later she felt something soft hit her backside, and she shrieked like a little girl.

"MALFOY I SWEAR TO GODERLIN I'M NOT GETTING OFF THIS FLOOR 'TIL THAT PILLOW IS COVERING YOUR MAN POKER!" she yelled into the threadbare carpet.

"Fine with me," he shrugged. "This is a side of you I don't get to see often enough."

"Eek! Shut your balls—er—_eyeballs_ you pervert!"

"Why don't you come over here and make me?"

"Malfoy I'm serious this carpet smells funny!"

Laughing, he decided to take pity on her and got up to retrieve the pillow.

"Is it safe yet?" she squeaked a minute later.

"Yes, I, Sir Malfoy have tamed the big scary penis monster. The world is safe again."

Pouting, she shakily got to her feet and threw herself onto the couch with a soft "humph."

"Now I believe you had something to ask me and my 'man poker'?" he said, sniggering and smirking and enjoying himself entirely too much.

"That's what it is! What else would you have me call it?"

"I don't know, dick, cock, ding-dong, meat popsicle, trouser snake, purple-helmeted warrior of love—"

"Ok, ok enough already! What the hell? Do you own some kind of dick… tionary?" He caught her eye and saw the twinkle of playfulness residing there before they both bowed their heads and howled with laughter.

"I can't believe I just said that!" she wailed, half amused, half seriously shocked with her dirty wordplay, and half too drunk to realize there couldn't be three halves.

Malfoy laughed louder. She punched him and then joined in.

"Back to business! Why are _you_…" She pointed at him with her finger wagging incase he didn't know who she was talking to, there being so many other naked men in the room and all. "…In hate, with Harry Potter?"

He had come this far. His previous suffering would be in vain if he were to cop out now and drink. There was only one thing to be done.

"Quidditch, he always beats me at quidditch."

Hermione grudgingly downed the last shot.

Ah morning; the birth of a new day. The sun warming the frostbitten ground with its shimmering rays as it makes the ascent to the heavens; the birds chirping merrily in welcome; the smell of bacon and eggs wafting through the halls…

…And Hermione Granger cursing the lot of it to Hell as she snuggled into her pillow to block out the offending noises, smells, and sights.

Speaking of smells, there was definitely some strange ones emanating from her pillow, and it was scratchier than she recalled. Funny, she had had a dream about a pillow just like it. Malfoy was in it, and they had a—

_A pillow fight!_

She shrieked and jumped away from the pillow as if it had burned her, tumbling off the couch and into a heap on the floor. Swearing profusely she struggled to her feet, having it out with the world's puffiest green blanket.

"Morning," a deep, overly cheery voice spoke from above her. She fought to the surface of the covers and squinted up at the figure, only one thought on her mind.

_Why didn't I wear sunglasses to bed?_

"Get out of my room, Malfoy," she grumbled and pulled the blanket over her head. The very _green_ blanket, that she was now tangled in because the foreign pillow she slept was practically a sexual predator and smelled like an old person's dirty laundry. Not to mention, it was way too bright for a bedroom that only had one window.

But none of that seemed to register in her current state of hung-overness. Nope, all she could think about was the pounding in her head and getting back into unconscious as soon as possible.

"Granger, I'm going to need that blanket back, and you should really get down to breakfast and drink some non-alcoholic fluids."

"Idonwanna," she whined like a spoilt child, still hidden under the covers.

Draco crossed the room and took a seat on the edge of the coffee table, staring down at the mangled blob that was Hermione. If someone would have told him twenty-four hours ago that he would be watching the Gryffindor princess roll around on the floor in his designer goose-down comforter in her underwear, he would have slapped them silly. But here she was, in all her post-drunken glory. Now, how to go about getting her up…

"You're naked you know," he stated pointedly. She shrieked, then groaned, and then peeked her head out to glare at him.

"I am _not_, I'm just not fully clothed."

_Or in my bedroom! Oh what have I done!_

He nodded his head, letting her have that one.

"Umm… Malfoy? What exactly happened last night?" she asked, swallowing non-existent spit, dreading the answer. The night's events felt like a dream, and she was only picking up bits and pieces of it at the moment, but more and more memories were flooding her mind as the morning progressed. The drinking, the questions, the answers!

_Oh balls…_

"Well, after I won the game you challenged me to a drinking contest. We finished off the bottle of Ogden's, and you beat me over the head with the couch pillow until I agreed to get more from my room. When I came back down you were passed out on the floor. I put you on the couch but I see my efforts were wasted."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to digest it all. "I'm never drinking again," she mumbled solemnly.

"Was that your first time?"

"What! We didn't, did we! Oh hell, please say we didn't!" she wailed, covering her face in her hands.

"Ok, we didn't," he shrugged.

"Don't lie to appease me!" she yelled dramatically.

"Granger, I meant was that your first time _drinking_."

There was silence from both sides.

"Oh… right…"

The silence continued.

"Well was it?"

"What?"

"Was that the first time you've ever drank?"

"Yes, and the last thank you very much!"

"That's what they all say, my dear. For a first timer I'm kind of impressed you aren't swimming in a puddle of puke this morning. Not bad at all."

"Oh don't say puke I think I'm going to be sick," she moaned as a wave of nausea rolled over her.

"Not on my blanket you're not!"

"Fine, fine…" she grumbled, struggling to her feet with the huge poof of a blanket wrapped tightly around her 'not fully clothed' body. She slumped to her bedroom and threw on the school robes she found on the floor, making a point not to glance at her reflection. She knew it wouldn't be pretty.

Malfoy was waiting for her in the common room, and she tried not to look at his perfectly groomed hair and freshly laundered clothes when she handed him back his blanket. One thing about his appearance that she certainly didn't remember from the night before was hard not to notice though. She almost laughed at it, but instead found that she was more hurt than amused. She had thought they were getting along and bonding during their date. She had trusted him enough to tell some pretty naughty secrets, and she had expected him to do the same. But obviously that wasn't the case, and the evidence was plain as day, smack dab in the middle of his forehead.

"Nice pimple, Malfoy," she sneered. She thrust the blanket roughly into his chest and stormed out the door, ready to eat her weight in greasy food and clog away her hurt feelings with the sweet taste of cholesterol.

Malfoy didn't chase after her, he had bigger problems to attend to, much bigger. Knowing that the pimple could not be vanished with magic, he decided to dedicate the morning to dealing with the unsightly blemish the old fashion way.

Squeezing the shit out of it.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N- Again thank you guys so much for reviewing!

Disclaimer- I still don't own anything from the HP world or make money off this story.

The following week dragged on, and Draco was in a foul mood throughout its entirety. Hermione wasn't talking to him. Not that that was exactly a new occurrence or anything, he'd just thought they'd made slight progress during their date. But he was proven wrong, and now he couldn't even get near her enough to defend himself. She was either surrounded by her two sidekicks, locked in her bedroom, or in class trying to make him look bad with her bookworm mind powers. Normally, the holier-than-thou attitude would have irritated him to no end, but now, to his utmost horror, he found himself simply fantasizing about her with her hand in the air, then answering dirty questions about her sexy knickers, and just any dirty question that Draco could think of.

_What's blue, round, and fun to play with?_

Umm… your balls, since I am somehow impervious to your undeniably sexy physique, and now you can't even get it up for the girls you used to find attractive?

Right you are, Hermione… Thanks a fucking lot!

He had to talk to her, he was afraid he would go crazy if he didn't. His only comforting thought on the subject was that at least he _knew_ it was crazy that he wanted Granger, and that he _knew_ he would likely go insane if she continued to ignore him. He figured truly crazy people didn't know that they were nuts.

_Although I have had more conversations with myself than anyone else in the past seventy-two hours… But that doesn't mean anything, right? I'm just deliberating, no harm in that. _

…_So, some weather we're having, eh?_

_Little wet for my taste but… _

_Oh hell… _

His next plan of action was to make her angry by reminding her of their deal with a little poetry, just so she would yell at him, but even that wasn't working. The poems that had flowed so freely seemed to be taking a vacation now that he had moved on from his Slytherin buddies. Stupid Ravenclaws. Smart people like that bunch were so _boring_. Frankly, he just couldn't think of anything to say about them. He didn't even really know any of them. There was the one Patil twin, but she had stayed under the radar since ditching the Weasel back in fourth year. She was nothing like her looser, dumber, skankier sister. Pity. Then there was always Mandy Brocklehurst, whose only humorous quality was her last name. But what could possibly rhyme with Brocklehurst? Brocklehurst is the worst? No, even in his pounding head it sounded dumb.

Too bad Loony Lovegood wasn't in his year, he could think of a million things to say about her. Oh if only… though, that one might actually be _too_ easy.

He had a bad feeling his social standing was about to plummet as he entered the Great Hall for breakfast on Wednesday morning. Never before had he had to worry about his popularity, but he did take it quite seriously. Still, here he was, about to flush it away for a girl that he should hate on principal, and the only girl that hadn't fawned all over him since he was old enough to smirk.

Something had to be done to either fix his addled brain, or soothe his aching cock, and it was no surprise which one he chose (what warm-blooded man wouldn't?).

He casually glanced at the Ravenclaw table as he stalked to his own. They even _ate_ like a perfect bunch of robots. Dabbing at their chins with their perfectly folded napkins to clean away an invisible crumb, and cutting their waffles into perfect, equal proportions.

It was hopeless. The only thing he could think to do was make fun of their study habits and lacks of social lives, but then they would probably just snicker to themselves and call him a lot of big words he wouldn't understand…

_I could always use a dick… tionary. _

And suddenly he realized that it didn't matter if he made an arse of himself. It would be worth it, his date with Hermione had proved that much. He had seen another side of the notorious bookworm, a side he wanted to get to know better—studious, bookish Head Girl by day; silly, funny, and completely _adorable_ drunk by night. Who knew?

He decided to redouble his efforts and that any old shit poem that could be construed as a "nice Valentine" would have to do. His goal was an average of three poems a day to make up for the two days he'd wasted, so that by the weekend, he would be accompanying the Head Girl on their second date. Ideas for what they would do were already swarming his mind as he turned to sit in his usual spot amongst the Slytherins, but the behavior of his so-called friends drove them away.

"This is getting old," he growled at the lot of them. The second he had come into their vicinity they had dove into a bowing position on the table, their arms outstretched straight in front of them and their faces practically touching their breakfast. It didn't look like a comfortable position, but Draco was not feeling sympathetic.

"Oh please don't blast us with your inner eye Great Dali Draco," Goyle whined sarcastically, his upper body still bowed. Draco used his large friend's head as a handrail to get into his seat, and smiled to himself at the squelching sound his Goyle's face made when it was met with scrambled eggs.

"I don't think that thing would be considered an _inner_ eye, not when it's protruding like a horn on your head. Puberty is _so_ last season my friend. Though, as Crabbe and Goyle have so cleverly pointed out, you could pass it off for one of those Hindu dots," Blaise said casually, clearly enjoying the situation.

Draco had a sneaking suspicion that it was Blaise that started the 'treat-Draco-like-a-religious-god-because-he-has-a-giant-zit,' act, even though he himself wasn't participating. There was no way Crabbe and Goyle would have come up with it by themselves, or have the balls to go through with it unless they were ordered to do so. He figured this was Blaise's idea of revenge for outing his sexuality in front of their class.

"Sorry Zabini, but while you're busy worrying about what season it is and if your robes bring out your eye color, I'll be busy with my precious little Gryffindor… And I don't mean Potter, so no need to get jealous," he sneered at his friend, who instantly went into a huff and concentrated on his meal.

Draco turned his attentions once again to the Ravenclaws. Valentine's Day was creeping up on him and he just had to bite the bullet and get them over with, the sooner the better. His last class of the day was Advanced Herbology, and a few of them shared it with him. The professor was always too busy with her head in the dirt to notice much, so if he could just have his poems ready by then he might have a chance at his weekend goal. He figured he could get at least two of them out of the way, maybe three if he was feeling particularly poetic.

He didn't even realize how long he had been staring until Padma Patil started waving at him and laughing to herself on his behalf. He grinned sheepishly and she smiled at him. Then Lisa Turpin nudged her and rolled her eyes, shooting Draco a death glare.

_Oh Lisa, and I had such high hopes for you..._

Advanced Herbology class was always interesting, to say the least. Professor Sprout pretty much just gave them directions and then went off to tend to her favorite plants, wearing her fluffy pink earmuffs. As far as Draco was aware, mandrakes were the only plant with a dangerous cry, and there weren't any in the greenhouse they were currently working in. He supposed she was just tired of telling them not to talk, and decided to take matters into her own hands and block them out instead.

Today they were set the rather easy task of planting bobotuber seeds. The class was in general good spirits as they fought the slimy things into the ground. Draco caught sight of Hermione, who was working alongside Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott. She had a smudge of dirt on her chin, even though it appeared Neville was probably having the most success with his seeds. Draco supposed everyone had to be good at _something._

About three quarters of the way through the class, everyone was breathing hard and slightly giddy from exhaustion. Draco figured it was as good a time as ever, and the professor hadn't been seen since they caught her drinking from a watering jug at the beginning of class.

He walked over to the group of Ravenclaws, calling for attention as he did so. He threw his arms around Padma Patil and Terry Boot's shoulders in a casual manner, satisfied that he had gotten the attention of the rest of his classmates. Lisa Turpin was once again rolling her eyes at him with her arms crossed, but the Patil twin and Terry were both just grinning and playing along like they knew what was to come couldn't be avoided.

"This one's for my friend Terry here… Granger, you better be paying attention!"

_With brains and grades that can't be beat,_

_Your napkin folded while your eat._

_So perfect, and clean, and smart, and proper,_

_I bet your casseroles are quite the showstopper._

_Some say you shouldn't sport the sweater vest as a man,_

_But if anyone can bring them back, I'm sure that you can._

_A fine house-husband you'll make, one of these days…_

_Now, shall I introduce you to my friend Blaise?_

The greenhouse roared with laughter and whistled their appreciation. Even Terry was bent over and howling with laughter, which Draco found surprising. Maybe the so-called boring nerds of Ravenclaw weren't _quite_ so bad…

"And next I give you the beautiful Miss Patil…"

_I could say you're pretty and smart,_

_But I don't want my poem to get cheesy._

_So I'll just make this one short and sweet._

_You're my hero for dumping Ron Weasley. _

Draco paid close attention to Padma's response, even though he really wasn't offending her in any way. For a moment her lips were pursed and her cheeks puffed, until she literally snorted and started cracking up. Terry patted Draco on the back and said, "I don't know how you come up with this stuff, man."

Draco had seriously underestimated the Ravenclaws; with a little tweaking they could practically pass for his own house. He had one more poem up his sleeve though, and he would see if they turned on him once he had thoroughly mocked one of their fellow housemates.

"And last but least, Lisa Turpin…"

_So bloody perfect, that's what you are,_

_On every exam, you get a gold star._

_Your skirt never hitched, fear of showing a knee,_

_Oh how exciting you social life must be._

_You could go to parties, you might have some fun,_

_Instead you're busy practicing to be a nun._

_You study so hard, your grades are the best,_

_So no one will notice that you have no breasts!_

Again, Draco soaked up the applause. Terry and Padma, who he had released a second earlier, hadn't joined in, but he could tell they were both trying to hide their creeping grins.

When the bell rang and they were dismissed, Terry marched to where Draco was standing, feigning like he was examining the Venomous Tentacula.

"Like I said, don't know how you come up with this stuff. Turpin's had a stick up her arse since she was named Prefect in fifth year, thanks for taking her down a notch."

"You're welcome, Boot," Draco replied subtly. "So, no hard feelings for my poem about you?"

"Nah," Terry waved it off. "To be honest, I think Blaise is kind of cute." Boot winked at Draco, slung his bag over his shoulder, and ran to catch up with Padma. Draco was more than pleased with himself, but knew that as soon as he ran into Hermione, the feeling would be dissipated. Therefore, he was almost relieved to see that she had already left with the Abbott girl.

"Wow, Draco really went all out today, didn't he?" Hannah said as they made their way across the grounds. Neville had stayed behind as usual, and they didn't even bother trying to drag him away with them. He was like a kid in a candy store when he was in the muddy, humid greenhouses.

Hermione angrily kicked a stone and scoffed before replying.

"Ugh, I know… He's such an arsehole!" she sneered in a loud whisper.

"What do you mean?" the Hufflepuff girl questioned. "If a guy did that for me I'd jump him where he stood! I mean, he obviously has a sense of humor, and on top of that he just so happens to be like the most delicious guy in school. I would so kill to be you right now!" the red-haired girl squealed.

Hermione didn't know what to say to this; her friend was completely missing the point! Draco wasn't saying the poems because he was some great guy, he was doing it to spite her and win the challenge! Hannah was in dire need of being set straight.

"It's not like that, he's just trying to prove to his friends that he can get with me because they all think I'm some 'prude princess.' He just wants another notch on his bedpost and for some reason I was chosen as his prey."

"You don't see how lucky you are, do you?" Hannah asked her seriously.

"It's not luck!" Hermione shouted exasperatedly, frustrated that her friend was still missing the point. "He's basically forcing me to sleep with him!"

"Trust me, no guy that could get laid on a regular basis would work that hard to get with you if it was just about sex."

Hermione scowled, but a little voice in the back of her head was telling her that there was some truth to what Hannah was saying. She just never thought Mr. Popular, Draco Malfoy, would actually go through with the challenge, but here he was, spouting poems like he had recently digested a rhyming dictionary. Did she have so little confidence she couldn't accept that an attractive male would actually like her?

It was a lot to think about. That much was certain.

Malfoy caught up with Hermione right outside the portrait entrance to their common room after dinner that night. She didn't even try to run away from him, and Draco was surprised to see her lips cocked to the side. She seemed to be studying him, and though Draco wasn't sure it was a good thing, it was definitely a step up to her screaming bloody murder.

"You'll stop at nothing, will you?" she asked him skeptically.

"No, I don't think I will," he shrugged casually.

"Well then," she sighed in defeat, "I better start brewing a hangover potion."

Draco eyed her critically, somehow expecting her to shout 'kidding!' and hit him where the sun didn't shine. But she did no such thing, she just shook her head, smiling slightly to herself. Draco didn't know what to say. He was so caught off guard that he just stood there with his mouth slightly gaping. Only when she turned to the portrait did he snap to attention.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" he asked.

She took a moment to contemplate her answer, biting her bottom lip in the process. Draco's mouth went dry as he watched her, and he knew the only thing that would quench his thirst was a taste of her sweet pink pout. He inched towards her, desperate for her touch. Unfortunately, she chose the moment he was about to go for it, to answer his question.

"Maybe I'm tired of always being mad at you. And besides, Boot and Blaise does have kind of a nice ring to it," she said, smirking mischievously. She chuckled lightly at the stunned look on Draco's face, before ducking into their common room. Draco followed behind her, trying to figure out if he was dreaming or not. He took a seat on the couch while she ran up to her bedroom.

A second later she was back, hanging over the balcony with something in her hand. She threw down a small tube and he caught it easily.

"It's Muggle pimple cream, I'd recommend using it generously on that thing," she called down to him.

"Gee, thanks Granger," he growled, pretending to act offended. She rolled her eyes at him and retreated to her bedroom. He had to resist the urge to follow her and claim the kiss he missed out on in the hall.

Grasping the little bottle of 'Clearasil,' he sunk into the couch, his eyes shut and a pained expression on his face. On his lap his erection stood tall, pitching a tent fit for a family of four. He let out a frustrated groan.

_Oh, what have I gotten myself into?_


	8. Chapter 8

"I still can't believe _you_ got invited to a party and we didn't! And with Draco… ugh… I'm so jealous!"

"Oh Gin, please don't remind me," Hermione grumbled with her face in her hands. They were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for Harry and Ron to return from quidditch practice. Hermione didn't really know if she was in the mood to see either of her two best friends, but she did know that she _wasn't_ in the mood to listen to Draco gloat about his most recent victory. Only that very morning he had topped of the Ravenclaw house, with the crowning of Michael Corner as 'Poontang King.'

_From out of the bush, comes a man like no other,_

_Lock up your girlfriend, and safeguard your mother._

_He gives and he gets, he's quite good with his thing. _

_No he's not Father Christmas, he's the Poontang King._

_An adventurer down under, he's surely no wussy. _

_With one goal in mind: To get him some—_

"_MR. MALFOY!"_

McGonagall had given him a very loud and public talking to, but the little rat had somehow weaseled his way out of even _one_ detention. It was completely unfair! And now she had to spend the night holed up in the Ravenclaw common room for a party in Draco's honor.

She was trying really hard to not be such a pessimist and give him a little benefit of the doubt, but it wasn't easy when he seemed so damn smug about everything. It would have helped if Ginny would have at least been on her side, but the red-haired girl was just like every other female in Hogwarts when it came to the Slytherin Prince. She thought Hermione was nuts to wait so long to sleep with him when they'd spent the whole year together.

"_You could have an army of genius babies by now!" _

Harry and Ron hadn't said much to her on the subject. They'd chuckle a little at Malfoy's latest poem, but after they'd just shrug it off like it was no big deal. They were well aware of the challenge and what it entailed if Malfoy did come off victorious, but even Harry, who acted like her father on most occasions, remained indifferent. Hermione didn't know if she should be relieved, or worried that her friends were on the latest potion craze.

Finally, Ron and Harry came trudging through the portrait hole just as the sun had set and shrouded the high windows in darkness. They looked windblown and exhausted, but seemed to be in general good spirits.

"So what did we miss?" Harry asked, sitting down next to his 'on again, off again' girlfriend. Ginny snuggled up to him and sighed into his chest.

"Oh nothing much, just talking about Hermione's second date with Malfoy tonight."

Hermione shot her a death glare, but it changed directions when both Harry and Ron let out a low "pshh," of disbelief and started laughing.

"Why is that funny?" she asked them, trying to hide the hurt from her voice by sounding angry. Ron pretended to be very interested in a nearby portrait of an old lady and her bulldog, but Harry wasn't bothered by her tone.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "It's just, Malfoy can get any witch, Hermione. He probably _has_ gotten any witch he's wanted. He's getting all this attention from these poems… Parvarti said her sister hasn't shut up about Malfoy ever since your Herbology class… It's just some great joke and a popularity scheme to him… Guys like that only go for one thing, big breasts and a pretty face… And well… you're really smart…"

"And what's that supposed to mean!" she sneered, now genuinely ticked off.

"You know I care about you… I just don't want you to get your hopes up."

"WHAT!" she shrieked. "Get my hopes up about what, Harry? You think I'll fall in love with Draco Malfoy and get hurt because, why would the great Malfoy want ME! We all know how much men go for the BIG BRAINS! Boring, plain, know-it-all me, destined to spend my life in celibacy because RON can't hold it in and no one else would ever like me! Is that what you think!" She practically had tears in her eyes at this point. Harry saying everything that she secretly feared to be true—that she had _thought_ to be true until her conversation with Hannah—hurt more than anything she'd ever felt.

"Hermione I didn't mean—"

"Yes you did," she choked out. "Looks like Draco isn't the only one judging on looks. The difference is that I expected it out of him… I didn't expect to hear it from my so-called best friend…"

With that she fled through the portrait that would take her to her own common room. She didn't even stop to acknowledge Draco, who was lounging casually on the sofa, she just went straight to her dorm and threw herself on the bed.

Now she didn't know what to think. For the past three days she'd been just like everyone else, cheering Malfoy along as he spouted his ridiculous poetry. She'd gotten it in her head that he might actually like her… She'd done exactly what Harry had warned her against.

She'd gotten her hopes up.

She wiped away a stray tear with the edge of her blanket, telling herself that none of it mattered. Another one fell down her temple and she knew it was a lie.

She let herself silently cry out the hurt she was feeling until she heard a knock at the door, breaking her out of her morose state. She jumped to sit up and hid her head behind a book.

"It's opened," she squeaked, her voice coming out soft and weak. A second later Draco was standing in her doorframe, looking just as he always did. Perfect.

The bastard.

"Where've you been all day?" he asked her. It wasn't accusatory or condescending. It was just a question, like he really did want to know where she'd been.

"Gryffindor House," she mumbled her response.

"Ahh… It all makes sense now," he said in a mock serious tone. Hermione lowered her book to eye level and studied him. His facial expression was grave, but his eyes were glistening mischievously. She rolled her own and asked him what she knew he was waiting for, though it was against her better judgment.

"Alright Malfoy, what makes sense?"

"Well I told the Weasel to start wearing a bag on his head because he was scaring young children," he started instantly, sounding very much like a Healer giving a diagnosis. "However, his grotesqueness is now far outreaching anything I could have foreseen… Keep up the tears and come with me to the Staff Room, I think we can get him covered up for good this time," he finished dramatically. Hermione chucked her book at his head, laughing in spite of herself at the way he leapt to avoid it.

"Ha, ha, ha, you are _so_ funny," she glowered at him. "What are you doing in here, anyway?"

"Just checking to see if you were ready for our date. Since you're still fully clothed I believe the answer is no."

She groaned and slumped into her bed. She'd almost forgotten about the party with the Ravenclaws.

"I mean we don't have to go. We can just have our own party. I'll bring the booze, you bring the full frontal nudity, sounds like a party to me."

Hermione rolled over to glare at him. He looked completely ridiculous, thrusting the air with his pelvis to the beat of a tune she couldn't hear. She threw a pillow at him, but his smirk only widened.

"Can't stop the funk, Granger," he shrugged, wagging his eyebrows and grinning like a madman. Hermione felt a tingle of something she'd never known wash over her, and she couldn't help but to laugh.

Though Harry's words were still fresh in her mind, she grudgingly got off the bed and followed Draco out into the hall and down to the Ravenclaw common room. After all, even if Harry was right, it didn't really matter. This whole thing was nothing more than a silly challenge that would end the moment the clock struck midnight on February 13th.

….Wasn't it?

Draco had completely misjudged the Ravenclaw house. At two in the morning the party was still going strong, and not one of them even showed the faintest signs of being ready to call it a night. At least twenty guys were huddled in the corner, watching Luna Lovegood dance with herself. She was swaying her hips in a circular motion that had every male within ten feet of her completely mesmerized. Draco had quickly turned away before the horrific thought that the loony girl might be a tad bit sexy was allowed to cross his mind. A few couples were grinding against one another in a different corner, and Terry Boot, who had organized the party, was standing on a table and singing.

Draco had to hand it to them. The Ravenclaws knew how to throw one hell of a party.

Though withdrawn a bit, Hermione wasn't sulking… or drinking. She was living true to her vow to never drink again, though just about every person at the party had come over to offer. Draco had to admire her willpower, as he himself had caved to a firewhiskey and soda the second one was handed to him. He was casually sipping it while enjoying a surprisingly pleasant conversation with his date. Made even more pleasant by the fact that for once he knew something Hermione didn't, a rare moment indeed.

"I mean they would be perfect together! They're both intelligent, powerful magical beings with a love for education. I don't see how you can continue to disagree with me!" Hermione protested. Draco tried to contain his glee as he leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"He's gay."

"WHAT!" she shrieked back at him. As everyone turned to stare at her, she suddenly envied Draco's innate ability to always act so calm about everything. Blushing furiously, she cleared her throat and using her 'indoor voice,' repeated her question.

"What do you mean Dumbledore's gay?" She took a sip of butterbeer and waited for a response.

"I mean he likes franks, beans, and doing it in the pooper," Draco shrugged, before being sprayed from head to toe with the sweet smelling golden liquid that had yet to enter Hermione's esophagus. A drop fell from Draco's chin and landed in his own drink, making Hermione burst into fits of the giggles.

"Another shower gone to waste," he growled out, not being as amused with his predicament as the Head Girl seemed to be.

"Serves you right for thinking all of Hogwarts is gay!" she retorted, glaring at him while the corners of her lips twitched. It wasn't every day the self-proclaimed Sex God of Slytherin stood drenched in her backwash, after all.

"So what's the punishment for being a Gay Dumbledore-aphobe?" he retorted.

"I am not! I just don't think it's right that you are going around telling everyone that the Headmaster is gay!" she shouted in a loud whisper.

Draco glared at her, casually took a sip of his drink before sneering, "Are too."

Eventually Padma Patil made her way over to converse with them. She had impeccable timing, as both Hermione and Draco's glares could have burned holes through less stubborn beings. The pretty Ravenclaw offered Hermione some sort of red concoction to which the Head Girl graciously declined.

"So how are Harry and Ron? You should have asked them to come, I haven't talked to them in ages!"

With a fake smile plastered on her face, Hermione took the drink and downed it in one go.

Things only went downhill from there…

"Harry doesn't _know_ me because he's all like 'no I can't be sexy' but I can be I just like to read and just because I like to read doesn't mean that I'm not a girl with pretty boobs and a big face!" she slurred in a drunken rant.

"Right… Maybe I should take that," Draco replied, reaching for her fifth cup of red 'jungle juice.'

"No!" she shrieked, clutching the glass like it was her very favorite teddy. "You'll have to take it from my cold, dead fingers you big poo head!"

"You do know how to insult a man…" he sighed, raising an eyebrow at her.

She smiled a self-satisfied little smirk, clearly thinking she'd truly injured his ego.

"Do you think I'm sexy?" she pouted at random, sticking out her lower lip and swaying on the spot. He wrapped a steadying arm around her waist, gazing down into her glazed-over eyes.

_All boners point to yes…_

"Nope," he replied solemnly. He'd never spoken a less true statement in his life. Seeing her laugh and not having her cringe or slap him when he touched her was just about the sexiest thing he'd ever seen her do. She'd finally lost her inhibitions around him, and though it took mass amounts of alcohol to get her to this point, he figured it was a start and he would take what he could get. That didn't mean he couldn't have some fun with her in her muddled state; he was Draco Malfoy after all.

"Guess you'll just have to prove it to me."

"Well you guessed it for sure but I'll sure show you!"

And she was off, slipping and stumbling her way across the room to where the group of men stood watching the loony bird. What happened next left every person stunned to a practically petrified state, their mouths hanging open and their chins on the floor.

Hermione had marched straight up to Luna Lovegood, grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. Hard. Draco couldn't believe his eyes, which were bugging out of his head at this point. His drink fell from his hand and spattered the floor and his designer shoes with red liquid, but he didn't care. He could buy new shoes later, right now all he could think of was the crazy witch who was snogging the even crazier one.

When the two girls broke apart, the room erupted in cheers so loud he was positive the professors would soon be on their way to break up their fun and deduct house points. It was probably a good time to tuck in for the night. He fought his way over to the crowd around his date and the woman that had just gotten more action from her than he did (_loony home wrecker!_), and beckoned Hermione to follow him.

"The nargles may have got you tonight, but you'll be safe with him," Luna said dreamily as Draco escorted his belligerent date away from the party.

"Harron and Rarry think I'm just this boring girl who likes homework and booking but I'm not I think that maybe I'm just boring because they think that I'm boring and I'm stuck and can't get out and have fun because people would think I'm crazy, you know?" she whined rather loudly once they were out in the empty hallway.

_Was that English?_

"Shh… yeah Granger, whatever you say," he replied as if talking to a small child, having only understood half of what she was saying.

"Humph, you don't know anything… If you had longer hair and liked bargles and snorkackers maybe I would have kissed _you_," she slurred. Draco nervously glanced around the corridor. Though it may not be registering in the Head Girl's current state of intoxication, if they were caught out like this they would be in massive amounts of trouble. He knew from experience however, that drunks were not easily shushed.

"Let's see how quiet we can be."

"Pshh... quieter than your big teeth…" she grumbled.

Luckily, she did stay somewhat muted for the remainder of the journey. Only when they reached their floor did she start back up again.

"Oh I'm so glad we're back now because I have to pee _soooo_ bad!" she exclaimed loudly. That was when Draco heard it. The cry of the mangy brown cat signaling to her master that she had found a student out of bed past curfew, and Draco knew that within moments Filch would arrive, as if some unknown magic connected him to the vile beast. As quietly as he could he whispered the password and held the portrait open for Hermione.

"Granger, in!" he commanded in a loud whisper.

"These paintings are pretty I wonder when I can paint one!"

"Picasso, in!" he tried again. The yellow eyes of Mrs. Norris appeared out of the darkness.

"Oh look a kitty!" Hermione squealed in delight.

_She's a goner, save yourself!_

Then, from between his legs came another voice, one with an American accent strangely enough.

_We need 'er, man. Ya gotta go fer it._

…_Does my penis really sound like that?_

_RUN YOU IDIOT!_

_GRAB HER!_

Draco dashed to where Hermione sat petting the evil feline, threw her over his shoulder just as the dragging footsteps of Argus Filch filled the hall, and flung them both inside the portrait.

"If you fart I will pee on you," Hermione grumbled.

"Lovely Granger, very ladylike. Now shut it!" he snarled back at her.

Draco cautiously placed his ear against the wall to check if they were in the clear or if they'd been seen.

"_What is it, my sweet?"_

He waited with bated breath, which was made difficult by the fact that Hermione had started poking him in the bum and giggling, but the effort to be stealthy was what counted!

"_What way did they go? Sniff them out, love…" _

The footsteps and voices grew louder. Draco was stock still, leaning as close to the portrait as humanly possible without pushing it open. Even Hermione sensed the seriousness of the situation and remained quiet.

"_They can't be far. Don't worry my sweet, we'll get them…"_

Miraculously the sounds died away, like the caretaker and his 'love' were continuing their search elsewhere. Did the cat just give them a break because Hermione had been nice to it?

_Nah…_

"I get it Malfoy, the whole castle and Snape's left butt cheek all get it… You're a big, strong manly-man, now put me down!"

At this point Draco _knew_ he had problems, big ones. He was dealing with a whiney, loud, obnoxious and bossy female, who had just said the phrase "Snape's left butt cheek," and yet he still wanted to snog her senseless.

"My offer to pee on you is still standing!"

She sounded like she meant it, so without further ado he carefully plopped her down on the couch and watched her slip and stumble her way up the stairs, holding onto the railing for dear life. It was a sight to behold… Hermione Granger acting like a teenager and not a thirty-year-old librarian. Hell had frozen over.

Around five minutes later she had finished her 'business' and was making her way back to the common room.

"I feel better now," she said softly, her face flushing in embarrassment as she sat down next to him on their couch.

"Good to know."

There was an awkward silent moment as they both avoided eye contact with one another. Draco inched closer to her. Their shoulders and thighs were touching ever so slightly, but she didn't move away. Draco could feel the sexual tension like static electricity covering his entire body. He wanted to touch her, but was afraid of being turned down if he did. If he wasn't turned down on the other hand… he was afraid he'd never stop.

Surprisingly, Hermione made the first move. Draco tensed as he felt her foot caressing his ankle.

"My feet are cold," she stated innocently. Instead of responding, he chose to turn and face her. She was smiling mischievously at him with her plump, pink lips. He had to taste them. Now.

He was on her in an instant, pushing her back against the soft fabric of the couch as he attacked her mouth with his own. She fought back with equal intensity, pulling him into her by his broad shoulders and entangling her legs with his.

His teeth caught her lip and bit down, while his tongue glided along the soft flesh, persuading her to open for him. She obliged and sighed as his tongue met with hers, creating a dull ache between her legs. Her mind was blissfully blank of all thoughts that didn't pertain to the sculpted, hunk of a man above her. He felt so good against her. She was hot all over and yet she only wanted to be closer to him. Anything to sooth the whooshing feeling from low in her gut.

When they came up for air Hermione wasted no time in telling him what she wanted.

"Ask me again."

"Ask you what?" Draco questioned, nipping her ear and eliciting a soft moan from his blushing beauty. His erection strained at the noise. He'd never heard a more arousing sound in all his life.

"To have sex with you."

He was wrong. Draco couldn't believe his ears. It was what he had wanted since… since before he even knew when. So… why wasn't he more excited? Why wasn't he stripping her down this very second?

"Please."

It took all the self-control he had ever possessed and then some in order to refuse her.

"I can't… You're drunk…" he whispered huskily.

_Yes you can, yes you can, yes you can!_

"Yes you can! I bet you're even good at it!"

_No arguments there…_

"I—" He faltered. What was he doing? Where was this conscience thing when he had slept with Lavender Brown or Daphne Greengrass? They were perfectly nice girls, and he had had no problem taking _them _to bed even after they'd had a few too many drinks. What was so different about this time… about this _girl_?

"Please Draco… just do it!"

_You heard the woman!_

"But—"

"But flobberworms! It's a win-win situation!" she pleaded in desperation. Why was he being so difficult!

"How is it a win-win situation?" he challenged.

She rolled her eyes and huffed in frustration. "That's _so_ obvious! You don't have to sing anymore and you get to do it. It's like having your cow and eating it too!" she stated matter-of-factly, as if _he_ was the intoxicated one.

"And how is it a win for you?" he asked calmly, raising a single eyebrow at her. He watched her face fall as the words got stuck in her throat. She hadn't thought about that part. It was such a typical Gryffindor trait of hers, always thinking of others and never of herself.

"I… well… I mean I'm… I'm sick of your stupid poems!" she shouted. For a second she seemed shocked that she'd said such a thing, but she quickly fell into the stride and went with it. "And I'm sick of your stupid face! And I'm sick of my stupid friends! And I'm sick of being stuck in my own stereote—stereotel—"

"Stereotype?"

"Yes that! I'm so sick of just being well… me! So just… just get it over with already!"

"But you're drunk and—"

"I promise I'll leave you alone after I won't be clingy or fall in love with you or anything like that so you don't have to worry!"

Her wide, pleading eyes broke his heart. He, Draco Malfoy, was a giant arse… a bastard even, and Hermione knew it. Unlike every other witch he'd gotten with who thought they would be the one to finally chain him down, Hermione had no such expectations. She was much too smart for that and had too much self-respect to go chasing him around and fawning all over him for a little attention. She still saw the challenge as the game it was supposed to be, completely unaware that it had changed… that _she_ had changed it… changed _him_.

For the first time that he could ever remember, he knew he was an arsehole, and he didn't like that fact. He used to pride himself on that very characteristic! Now it made him sick to know how much his past was hurting his future.

"I'm going to bed," he stated solemnly, purposefully avoiding her eyes. "Come on, I'll help you up the stairs."

He stood facing the wall, waiting for her to stumble over to him so he could escort her to her bedroom. When he didn't hear her move, he cautiously turned to face her. She was no longer looking at him, however. Her face was bowed into her knees, hidden by a mop of bushy hair.

"They were right," she said softly.

"What?" Draco asked, voicing his confusion.

"Harry said that you were only doing this for attention… That you would never like me, or want me like you do Lavender or Pansy, because I'm not pretty enough."

She looked up at him with an unblinking stare and an emotionless expression. Draco took a step backwards. He didn't know what to say to her. He wanted to tell her how wrong she was… how beautiful she was, but the words wouldn't come.

"He was wrong though too, because he said I was smart. If I was smart I wouldn't have gotten myself into this mess in the first place."

Then, with more grace than he had ever seen someone with so much alcohol in their bloodstream use, she stood and wobbled her way up the staircase to her bedroom. Still Draco stood silent. He couldn't bring himself to tell her what he was really feeling. It would change his entire being. It would change the reputation he had built up over the past six years completely. But was his reputation worth protecting? Hadn't he just realized that he _didn't_ like the things he'd done?

"Hermione I—"

"Keep going with the challenge," she interrupted. "I hope you win even. You deserve the displeasure of sleeping with a lowly bookworm!"

She slammed the door, leaving him alone and confused, and not for the first time.

Now what was he supposed to do?

A/N- Thanks for the reviews and being patient with my slow updates! It is mucho appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9

If there was ever a time that Hermione was glad for the weekend, it was today. She knew when she woke up and rushed to the toilet, bringing up the alcohol that somehow tasted ten times worse on the way out, that it was not going to be a good day.

She stumbled down to breakfast, in need of something to get rid of the sour taste in her mouth that her toothbrush had been unable to fix, and almost jumped out of her skin when the Ravenclaw table erupted in cheers.

_Super…_

Her cheeks burned red, but she plastered half of a fake smile on her face and gave them a slight wave. After about five seconds she could take no more, and she turned on her heel and hightailed her arse to the Gryffindor table. She took a seat next to Ginny, not caring that Harry and Ron were sitting across the table, and that she was technically still mad at them.

"What was that all about?" Ginny asked her. Hermione shrugged her shoulders, shoveling food into her mouth straight from the serving trays. It tasted like heaven.

"Probably just welcoming the new Queen Bee, Mrs. Malfoy," Ron snickered sarcastically. Hermione glared at him, swallowed her food and cleared her throat.

"Or perhaps it's because I snogged Luna Lovegood last night in their common room," she replied conversationally. Seeing the stunned looks on their faces made leaving the comforts of her room all the more worthwhile. "Can someone pass me the butter?"

By the end of the day, what had happened at the party was common knowledge. Somehow, this didn't make her even more of a social outcast like she thought it would. People she'd hardly ever spoken to made a point to say hi to her in the halls. Even Millicent Bullstrode almost smiled at her! It was like she was in some kind of alternate universe, where only her so-called friends were acting normal. She could deal with them though. They would get over it, and when they did they owed her a massive apology.

She walked into the Great Hall for dinner thinking that the day actually hadn't been as bad as she'd thought it would be. She'd even managed to avoid Malfoy without really trying.

To top it off, at lunch the Headmaster announced that there was to be an extra Hogsmead trip over the following weekend, _and_ two guys had already asked her if she would accompany them! _Two_ guys! That was two more men than she'd ever been asked out by before, not including the forced dates with Malfoy, of course. She'd said no to both of them, but the fact that they'd asked made her feel oddly giddy inside.

She should've known that it was too good to be true.

About halfway through dessert, the hall went unusually quiet. Hermione looked around, trying to figure out the cause, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't what she thought it might be.

_He wouldn't… He couldn't!_

She'd practically thrown her drunken self at him and he'd refused her, so why would he keep up with the challenge? He'd just proven that he was all talk and no action! He didn't _really_ want her! He just wanted to think that she wanted him, because she was the only girl who'd ever turned him down, and Merlin forbid his big ego get taken down a notch.

No, there had to be something else going on. She slowly turned towards the Slytherin table, where everyone else's eyes were already fixed.

"This one goes out to Ernie Macmillan…"

The fork in Hermione's hand bent in half.

_Mother. Fucker._

Malfoy winked at a few girls who were screaming his name. Hermione vomited in her mouth a little.

_I've heard someone talk of a great Hufflepuff,_

_Who's tall, dark, handsome, and incredibly buff._

_His tool puts a mammoth's trunk to shame,_

_And Ernie Macmillan was this fellow's name._

_He's dated so many girls. His friends think he's cool._

_No, you haven't met them; they don't go to this school._

_He could be the best quidditch player Hogwarts ever had,_

_But he's too scared of making everyone else look so bad._

_Eleven inches around, isn't that what he said?_

_What a shame that this rubbish is all in his head!_

Malfoy accepted his raucous applause by bowing deeply to every table. Hermione was literally fuming mad. She looked to the professors' table for some justice, but they hadn't seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. What had happened to everyone! Were the house-elves putting something in the food!

Unfortunately, Hermione didn't have time to inspect the pies for anything suspicious, as they had vanished a second before. Everyone started to leave, laughing and talking about Malfoy's poem to Ernie. They were_ so_ easily amused!

Hermione pushed through the slow moving procession, trying to catch the teachers before they disappeared for the night. She caught up with McGonagall just in time.

"Professor, I'm sorry, but how can you let Malfoy get away with insulting Ernie like that right in front of you!"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," McGonagall replied, eyeing Hermione carefully.

"I'm _talking_ about Malfoy! He stood up on the table and read a very mean poem to everyone!"

McGonagall looked confused for a minute, before pressing her hand to Hermione's forehead. "Are you feeling alright, Ms. Granger? You don't seem to have a temperature."

"Of course I'm feeling just fine!" she yelled back, sounding slightly maniacal even to her own ears.

"I can assure you that if Malfoy were to do such a thing, I would have stopped it immediately. I think you need some rest. Goodnight Ms. Granger."

Hermione watched the teacher go, her hands balled in tight fists and her teeth grinding together, as the anger blossomed inside her.

_GRRRRRR!_

She took off at full speed. Just because the professors had decided to ignore the parasitic prat, didn't mean that she had to.

"MALFOY!" she screeched at the entrance to their common room. He was there; she could see the back of his head peeking over the couch. It took all her self-control not to leap over the sofa and claw his face off, especially after he turned so casually towards her, like he didn't know what he'd done.

"Yes, Granger? Is something wrong?" he asked innocently, batting his eyelashes for effect.

Unfortunately for Malfoy, her self-control didn't extend quite _that_ far.

"ARRRGGGG!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, running flat out and diving at him. Her hands enclosed around his neck and she fought her way on top of him, pinning him to the couch.

"Merlin… Granger… can't… breathe!" he choked out, gasping for air.

_I _so_ need to put Granger's man-grip to work somewhere else…_

"Why are you doing this to me! And how are you even getting away with it!" she shouted, her grasp on his neck firm as she beat his head into the cushion repeatedly.

"Oblivious… Charm," he grunted.

So that was why the teachers hadn't seen anything; he'd charmed himself to make the professors not notice him if they weren't specifically looking for something. It was kind of genius actually, because they would never think to look for a student standing on the table reading weird poetry.

"Seriously… can't… breathe…" Malfoy wheezed, his face turning a dark shade of pink. Hermione grudgingly loosened her hold, but continued to glare at him so fiercely that he didn't dare make a move to leave.

"Now tell me, why do you continue to torture me every chance you get?" she asked him seriously.

"I'm not torturing you!" he shot back. He'd spent hours writing stupid poems for her!

_What an unappreciative little—_

"Oh, so it wasn't enough to shoot me down last night? Now you have to finish with the challenge so you can turn me down in front of the whole school!" she shrieked.

"What!" Draco asked, genuinely confused. "You're the one who told me to continue with the challenge!"

"I did not!"

"Yes you did! You said, and I quote: 'Continue with the challenge. I hope you win even'."

_And something else about deserving blah-blah-blah…_

"I was being sarcastic! Stop taking everything I say so literally!" she yelled at him and smacked him in the chest. Was he really that thick?

"Stop telling me to do things you don't actually want me to do!"

_Why do I want this girl again?_

"Stop doing everything I say!"

_I should've strangled him when I had the chance!_

"Stop yelling at me!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

…

Hermione glowered sinisterly at him. How could he not understand what he was doing to her! Why was it so hard for him to just leave her alone and let her get on with her bookworm life in peace! She'd spent six years living comfortably under the radar, until he came along and ruined everything!

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" she finally asked him.

Draco eyed her, contemplating his response. The girl was sitting on top of him, her hair fiery and her eyes burning with passion, and she wanted to know why he couldn't just leave her alone?

"Maybe if you stopped sending me all these mixed signals, I would be able to!" he sneered.

"Pshh, what mixed signals?" she huffed in disbelief, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

"Well for starters, 'Oh Malfoy, all you have to do is make up Valentine's Day poems for everyone in our year and I'll sleep with you! I'll even make it a magical contract so you know how serious I am about it!' " he mocked her sarcastically in a high-pitched girl voice.

"I was just trying to—"

"_And_," he interrupted, "what about you getting drunk, taking off your clothes, and asking me a bunch of sexual questions!"

"That was because _you_ made me play—"

"Then you go and make out with me and practically beg me to sleep with you, and I refuse because you are drunk off your arse, and you get mad at me! You get mad at me for _not_ sleeping with you, and you're mad at me for continuing the challenge so I _can_ sleep with you! Make up your mind, woman!"

"But… I… you… Well, when you say it like _that_…" she mumbled. Draco smirked up at her.

"Oh and don't forget how you tried to kill me not even twenty minutes ago, but now here you sit, straddling my lap!"

Hermione looked down, horrified by their compromising position.

"Eek!" she shrieked, jumping off of him and tumbling gracelessly to the floor in her haste. Was he right? Was she really sending mixed signals without even realizing it?

"See, even your subconscious wants me," he stated pompously.

She didn't know what to say. She could've sworn she had a counter argument, but she didn't know what that was anymore. Why did he always make her feel so confused about her own feelings!

"So… what are you going to do?" she asked slowly.

"With what?"

"You know… the challenge," she replied, not sure of what she wanted him to say. Would he keep going? Would he stop? Did she want him to stop? What if he won…?

Draco contemplated his answer. He was more than halfway to his goal; he couldn't just walk away now. Maybe before their dates he could have… before he heard her laugh… before the kiss that still lingered on his lips… before she told him about her red knickers and getting prematurely ejaculated on by Weaselbee…

"I'm not giving up."

A/n- Seriously thanks everyone for the support! Hopefully I will be able to start updating regularly again, but I thank everyone who is sticking with me and this story from the bottom of my heart. You guys are awesome :)


	10. Chapter 10

A/N- Thanks everyone so much for reviewing! I was so excited to see that people are still reading this story after so long. I think it finally brought me out of my writer's block for this story, and I am happy to say I actually wrote something new for the first time in over 6 months : ) So thanks everyone! I think I am too attached to these characters though, and the story just keeps getting longer and longer than I ever intended. Hopefully that is not a bad thing, and you guys don't think I am just dragging it out. If it ever starts to feel that way, please let me know! Ok I'm done now, thanks for reading and reviewing!

Daphne Greengrass's little sister was hot. There was no denying it. She had perfectly proportioned facial features, and a perfect handful of breasts and butt. Unlike her sister, she wasn't a whore; she was a player. She held her va-jay-jay over men's heads to get what she wanted, and it hadn't failed her yet.

She'd never paid much attention to Draco, with him banging her sister and all… But in the past two days since he'd started his Hufflepuff poems, it seemed that she couldn't get enough of him.

Draco knew he shouldn't encourage her, so he didn't. However, he also didn't _discourage_ her. A part of him wanted to want her again, like he used to. It would make his life so much simpler. At least with her he knew why he'd liked her. Astoria was pretty and popular. _Everyone_ wanted her.

Why couldn't he just define his hunger for Granger like he could with Astoria? Hermione was cute and all, but it definitely wasn't her looks that drew him to her, it was something else, and whatever that something else was, it was very strong. There was no way he'd make up ridiculous poems to get into Astoria's knickers, even if they were encrusted with diamonds and he got to keep them as a souvenir.

"So Hogsmead this weekend… were you planning on going with anyone?" Astoria asked him casually as they headed towards the library after lunch let out.

"I'm not sure yet," he replied. Truth be told, he _was_ planning on going with someone, he just had to get the Hufflepuff poems finished in time so she'd have to go with him.

He had been contemplating asking Hermione even if he didn't finish, but he didn't know if he could handle a rejection. She was so hard to figure out. In the forty-two hours since she'd tried to kill him, they had been civil with one another. She wasn't exactly nice, but it was definitely an improvement on the strangling thing.

Sometimes he thought she even wanted him, but he also knew that she didn't _want_ to want him, not that he really understood why. He was a charmer and he was sexy, but she was very strong-willed, and did not like to lose, even if the battle was with herself. Getting through to her was not going to be easy. It just made things much simpler if her decisions were made for her via magical coercion.

"Well, I'm free if you need a date," Astoria chimed in.

"Yeah thanks, I'll let you know," Draco responded offhandedly. She didn't say anything for a moment as she mulled over her next move.

"You know, no one would care if you quit that silly challenge. I mean, you'll have to stop soon anyhow, or you'll be forced to sleep with that geeky know-it-all."

"I'm not doing it to sleep with her," he replied reflexively.

"Yes you are."

_Oh… right…_

When she said it like that, of course it sounded bad. Maybe at first he was just doing it to sleep with her, but now he was doing it for some other reason. No, he didn't know what that other reason was, he just knew that it wasn't _only_ about the sex anymore. He wasn't a _completely_ heartless bastard.

He was also not ready to let the entire school know that yet.

"I just want to win," he lied to the pretty, popular girl. "I won't actually finish, but I need to carry on long enough for her to know that I _could've_ won… You know… if I wanted to."

She seemed to like this answer, and she rested her hand on the crook of his arm as they entered the library together.

Neither of them had noticed that Hermione was also on her way to the library, and that she happened to be following the pair within earshot.

She fell back against the wall opposite the library doors and slid to the floor. How could he say those things!

That one wasn't hard to answer: He was Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts' most eligible man-whore, and arsehole extraordinaire.

The more important question was, how she could ever think that there was more to him than that? How could she be so easily convinced that he was actually a genuine person, when all evidence pointed to the contrary?

And most important of all, why did she care so much that he had no intentions of finishing the challenge? Yes, it was mean, and hurtful, and cruel, but he was Mr. Popular, Draco Malfoy, and she knew that he was all of those things. Why did hearing him say that surprise her so much?

So _maybe_ they'd had a little bit of fun together. Maybe she enjoyed their dates a teensy-tiny bit more than she thought she would. Sometimes, when she forgot that she was mad at him for his poems, she actually thought they were sort of clever and funny. It made her think that _he_ was sort of clever and funny.

Yes, his self-confidence bordered on arrogance… He was beyond stubborn, and completely insufferable when he didn't get his way… But he was also spontaneous, smart, and fun. He lived in the moment, and it was a refreshing break from her little clique of misfits who'd never dare do anything like drink, or play stripping games, or go to a party without adult supervision.

Too bad the Draco she thought she was getting to know was more full of shit than a constipated rhinoceros.

She huffed to herself, pursing her lips and glaring into the library, where she could just picture him pawing that… that _thing_ in between the shelves somewhere…

The thought put a sour taste in her mouth, and she decided to study in the Gryffindor common room instead. There was no chance of running into Draco there, not that he would emerge from the tainted bookshelves anytime soon if that_ slag_ had anything to do with it.

She spent so much time setting up her workstation and disemboweling Malfoy in her mind that she had barely opened a book when the bell rang, and she had to rush off to her afternoon classes.

Malfoy was there, of course.

_He must have managed to skive off babysitting duty…_ she thought with a sneer. Astoria was barely 14, what was she trying to do with Malfoy, anyway? Get him to adopt her?

_Pshh… whore!_

There was a time when Hermione would have hardly noticed a professor stepping out to use the loo, but today, when little Professor Flitwick closed the door behind him, she visibly paled. She turned to face Malfoy, her face twisted in an angry scowl, just daring him to open his mouth. It was the last day of January, after all, he didn't have that much time left to finish just enough poems to humiliate her.

She hadn't noticed how hard she was squeezing her quill until it snapped in her hand, and Malfoy, seeing this, chuckled loudly. Her cheeks burned red and she spun around to face the blackboard, crossing her arms and fuming to herself. Draco's attention shifted to the rest of the class, all of which were staring at him expectantly. Had he missed something?

"You better hurry, mate, Flitwick won't be gone forever!" Blaise hissed at him.

"Huh?" Draco asked, confused. He was having a lovely little daydream about Hermione, a levitation charm, and a feather… Whatever Blaise had to say had better be good.

"Don't you have a poem to read while Flitwick is out clogging his miniature toilet?"

Oh right… the poems! He wished he had one, the Hogsmead trip was days away, and Valentine's Day was practically around the corner! All eyes were on him to perform, but he had nothing. They shouldn't put so much pressure on him! Just because his poems were bad didn't mean they wrote themselves!

"Not now," Draco whispered back, picking up his book and propping it in front of him in a silent attempt to get his friend to drop it.

"Why Draco, does this mean that you're giving up?" Blaise asked him, loud enough for the whole class to hear. Draco could tell Hermione was hanging on every word of their conversation, though she was the only one who was turned the other way, pretending to ignore him.

"No it doesn't," he replied sharply. He didn't want Granger to get any ideas about him quitting. He would do no such thing, and he was going to win this challenge by any means necessary. Hermione needed to know this.

"Thursday night at nine… Astronomy tower… Someone will need to invite the Hufflepuffs," he said, smirking his self-satisfied little smirk for everyone to see. No need to panic yet. It wasn't as if he was setting himself up to fail in front of a large portion of their class or anything.

_Six poems in two days… that's realistic… _

_Not._


	11. Chapter 11

"You sure you don't want to go?"

"Yes."

"Are you _sure_ you're sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you _really_ sure you're—"

"Yes! I don't want to go anywhere near the astronomy tower at any point tonight or any night that Draco Mother Mounting Malfoy is in the vicinity!" Hermione snapped, unable to hold her temper in check any longer. It was 8:49 on Thursday night. Ginny had been pestering her since approximately 8:07. Enough was enough already!

"Sorry, 'Mione, I just thought… you know… since he's doing this to have sex with you…" Ginny trailed off, shrugging her shoulders.

"He's not. He's doing this for attention and because he _thinks_ he's bothering me by continuing… which he isn't. He's not actually going to go through with it," Hermione said to her friend, trying not to sound too bitter about it.

Ginny looked confused. The poor girl actually believed Malfoy wanted to sleep with the frumpy bookworm.

"What do you mean he's not going to finish?" Ginny asked incredulously. Hermione put down her book and peered around the Gryffindor common room to make sure no one was eavesdropping. There were a few younger students by the fireplace, but none within earshot. She leaned in towards Ginny, who was sitting across from her at the table they were occupying, just to be safe, and told her about the conversation she had overheard between Malfoy and his pre-pubescent, wannabe adopted daughter… who was also a whore.

"I don't get it," Ginny said after hearing Hermione's story. "He's only doing this so you know that he _could've_ won, but why does he even care? He wants to prove that he can get with you if he finishes the poems, and you're _forced_ to sleep with him? That's hardly an accomplishment… It's more like he wants revenge, but what did you do to him?"

"Nothing!" Hermione wailed. It was nice to have at least one friend who understood what she was going through. "Well I sort of tried to kill him the other night, but he deserved that!"

"What! Do tell!"

Hermione contemplated telling Ginny who else she had made out with the night of the Ravenclaw party. It felt good to talk to someone, and Ginny seemed to understand Hermione's woes. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to get it all out in the open.

"So I was slightly intoxicated at the party," she started. Ginny raised an eyebrow at her.

"Ok, more like completely obliterated," she conceded. "Malfoy dragged me back to our dorm and we were sitting on the couch and… well… he sort of kissed me… like a _real_ kiss. And then I kind of… might have… asked him… to ask me… to sleep with him."

Ginny's eyes went wide with the new information. "Oh. My. God. You had sex with him already!"

"No!" Hermione shot back. "He said no!"

"What? That doesn't make sense!"

"I know!" Finally, someone was getting it! A wave of relief washed over her. This talking thing was kind of nice, she understood why most girls couldn't get enough of it.

"So then, the very next day he goes and reads another poem! So I _politely_ asked him why he was doing this to me, and he said that _I_ was sending him mixed signals!" she huffed.

"Like what kind of signals?"

"Oh, nothing of real significance… I just don't understand, though. I mean… he's working so hard for this, and he used to bother me for sex on a regular basis, and now I find out it's for no other reason than to spite me? It's not like he could make me any more of a loser than I already am!" she said, rubbing her eyes, which she was surprised to find had gone slightly moist. Ginny reached a hand across the table and rested it on her friend's shoulder.

"Hermione, honestly, Malfoy is just a prat. In a few years he will be fat and bald, and you will be beautiful and successful. None of this will even matter."

"You would say that, you're beautiful now, Gin. Boys like you! They also don't spend all their time plotting to publicly humiliate you!"

"You aren't as ugly as you think you are," Ginny replied.

"Gee… thanks," Hermione shot back sarcastically.

"No, I'm serious! You've always hid behind being smart, but I think there is more to you, and boys are starting to see it! Don't tell me you haven't gotten a lot of male attention from snogging Luna," the redhead challenged.

"That's because I _snogged_ a _girl_!"

"Yes, but it's also because it showed you have a fun side! Boys need to know that you are interested in more than just books. They need to think they have a chance, or they won't bother to take one."

"So _guys_ think I could be interested in them because I kissed a _girl_?" she worked out slowly.

"Yup."

Wow, men weren't confusing at all.

"Ok, so what should I do about Malfoy? Should I just ignore him, or tell a teacher, or slip him an impotence potion?" Hermione asked slyly, hoping Ginny would encourage the latter.

"Hmm…" Ginny pondered. "I think you should ignore him, but… I heard Dean and McLaggen both asked you to be their date to Hogsmead this weekend?"

"Yes, but I didn't say I'd go with them. I mean, it's not necessary to have a date and I think I'd get so much more done if I went alone and—"

"Ok, ok I get it!" Ginny interrupted, staring at her friend with bulging eyes. How was it even possible that Hermione could put thought into every little thing she did? Where did she find the time! "I was thinking, perhaps you should agree to go with one of them."

Hermione didn't say anything for a moment, before she asked, "Why?"

"Well, maybe Malfoy is doing this to humiliate you, and maybe he isn't. Either way, right now he's probably finishing the Hufflepuff poems, which means that you'll have to go on a date with him. If you already have a date to Hogsmead, at least he won't be able to ruin it for you. And who knows, you might even make him jealous," Ginny shrugged.

"Pshh…" Hermione hissed in disbelief. "He's going with Astoria Greengrass, I could have triple D's and sport a cat-suit, and he wouldn't look twice."

Ginny just laughed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "You can be really delusional sometimes. Even Dumbledore would look twice at you in a cat-suit, and he's gay!"

Hermione almost argued, but the words got stuck in her throat. Malfoy had once enlightened her on the headmaster's sexual orientation… at a party where she had kissed Luna… on a night that she had also kissed a certain Slytherin…

"Ok, but should I go with Dean or Cormac?" she asked, her face set determinedly.

Ginny squealed in delight, grabbed Hermione's hand, and pulled her towards the girls' dorms. "I've got the perfect outfit for you!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she dug her heels into the floor, but it was no use. Ginny may be built like a twig, but when she wanted something, she was like a crazed whomping willow on steroids. If Hermione hadn't started picking up her feet on the staircase, Ginny would have literally dragged her along, with her head bouncing against every step like a rag doll.

It was official. Draco Malfoy had groupies. Giggling ones, like _really_ giggly. They were each wearing a shirt with his face on it that said 'Be My Dracentine!' and apparently this was the funniest thing since the professor Flitwick Barbie (it was life-size).

"Come on, Dracentine!" one of them yelled. She looked like she had more to say, but she suddenly burst into fits of laughter, falling on her other friends, who all joined her in jumping up and down. Draco would have thought they were drunk, if it wasn't for the fact that they were barely 12 years old.

One of them seemed to be getting a hold of herself. She stepped forward, clutching her side and looking at him like she wanted to bite a chunk out of his backside. Draco didn't like this one. She was chubby, and her shirt was stretched tight over her belly, making Draco's face look oddly distorted. His Grecian good looks shouldn't have to suffer because some girl couldn't control herself around the pastries. He wasn't a fan of being displayed as a Chinese special-needs child, and was just about to tell her so when she finally composed herself enough to speak.

"Read your last poem!" she shouted.

"Yeah, do it!" one of her counterparts added, before covering her mouth with her hand like she'd said a naughty word.

"Oh. Em. Gee! 'Do it'!" the fat one exclaimed, falling on the group as they all broke out in a hysterical fit of laughter. Either that, or they were having seizures simultaneously. It was hard to tell.

Draco's eyes searched the room, but Hermione was nowhere to be found. He had hoped she would show up to at least hear _one_ of his poems. Writing Valentines for almost one-fourth of their year in two days was no easy feat, and Granger wasn't even there to appreciate it!

There was nothing to be done. He had to finish before the professors arrived, and with the amount of noise the giggling girls were making alone, he didn't have much longer. Sighing, he raised his arms in the air to call for attention.

"Last, but definitely not least, a poem for Susan Bones," he said, spotting her red hair amongst the crowd and shooting her a slight wave.

_You may have flaming red hair,_

_Not to be confused with a Weasley._

_Though I've never tried myself,_

_I've been assured you aren't easy._

_Many men have searched and failed,_

_To find out what's under your clothes._

_A bush, a hedge, an overgrown woods,_

_Or landing strip, like so many hoes?_

_One could slip you a compliance potion,_

_So for that, you should keep watch._

_When desperation starts running high,_

_To unearth your fire crotch._

_Some wizards may even start to try,_

_Surveillance spells and videotapes._

_To solve the mystery of our time,_

_And see if the carpet matches the drapes!_

Everyone cheered. Susan looked slightly embarrassed, but she was laughing along with the rest of her classmates. His work there was finished, so he started to make his way through the crowd and back to his common room, receiving many pats on the back along the way. It was time to find Granger and tell her the good news about their date to Hogsmead.

Hermione was lounging on the sofa with a book when he arrived. She didn't acknowledge him, even when he sat down right next to her.

"I finished the poems for Hufflepuff," he gloated.

"Mmm hmm…" she hummed her reply. Her nonchalant attitude caused a spike in Draco's blood pressure.

"You know what that means, don't you?"

"Mmm hmm…"

Draco couldn't take it. He snatched her book out of her hands, finally getting her to look up at him. She wasn't sneering or scowling, or even showing any kind of emotion towards him at all. It was completely infuriating.

"Don't you just know everything today!" he snapped. "So I don't have to remind you that finishing Hufflepuff means that we have a date, now do I?"

"Nope," was her simple, one-word response. The vein in Draco's temple started to swell.

"Then we'll be leaving for Hogsmead at 10 when the carriages set off, I don't want to walk."

"Nope," she repeated, barely suppressing a smirk. His eyes narrowed.

"If we miss the carriages, I'll make you carry me."

She actually snorted in laughter at his comment. "_We_ won't be leaving together, so it doesn't matter if _we_ miss anything!" she replied curtly.

"I get to chose what we do on our dates, and I say that we are going to Hogsmead!" he snapped back, his voice ringing with finality. He knew he shouldn't care so much, but his emotions were getting the better of him lately. He blamed her.

"Oh no, I am _so_ sorry!" she cried, not sounding sorry at all. "I had no idea you'd want to go Hogsmead with _me_!" She slapped her cheek with her palm, shaking her head in sarcastic disbelief. "I'm afraid I already have a date." She patted his shoulder, took her book back and headed to bed. Feeling quite satisfied for ruining his evil plan, she practically skipped up the stairs.

"Who are you going with?" he asked.

"None of your business!" she replied in a singsong voice.

"It is my business if you're making him up." That got her attention. She turned with her hand on her doorknob, a devilish half-smirk plastered to her face.

"Dean Thomas, a perfect gentleman." She opened her door and slammed it shut behind her, leaving Draco alone in their common room, silently fuming.

_Perfect gentleman! I'll show her who's the perfect gentleman…_

As always, thank you for reading and reviewing :)


	12. Chapter 12

A/N- Hey everyone! Thanks so much for all the nice reviews! I really appreciate them. Now, I don't want to give too much away, but this chapter is more adult than the rest… um… sexually. So I really didn't want to edit it out and I know I've seen way worse, just know that the rating is M and if you are underage or uncomfortable with sexual situations, you've been warned not to read this. That being said, if you do want to read this then pretend I didn't warn you so that you can be surprised lol.

…

"Perfect. Just try not to let him drool on you, it'll stain my silk shirt and I want it back," Ginny said, smiling happily at Hermione while she put the finishing touches on her friend's makeup. The Head Girl promptly rolled her eyes and nervously pulled at the straps of the shirt she had been stuffed in to by Ginny. It was slightly too small for her; she felt like her breasts were about to escape and ricochet off her chin.

"Are you sure this shirt is umm… safe?" she asked weakly. Ginny just laughed and shook her head.

"Yes. And besides, it's not supposed to be 'safe', it's supposed to be sexy."

Hermione bit her lip. She didn't _feel_ sexy. She felt uncomfortable and weird, like she was trying to be someone she wasn't. Only silly girls with little sense and lots of air in their skulls wore such a flimsy garment in early February.

She mutely took the grey ankle boots that Ginny handed her and slipped them on, still scrutinizing her reflection. She supposed that with a heavy winter cloak and the right scarf, no one would even know that her breasts looked like they could feed a small country.

"Do you and Dean want to grab a carriage with Harry and I?" Ginny asked her.

"Umm…" If Ginny saw her all bundled up, she might make her remove the extra layers… But surely she wouldn't say anything right in front of Dean… And it would definitely be nice to have other people around, because she had absolutely no idea what _she_ was supposed to say to Dean. So they'd shared the same house in the same school for the past 6 years; she knew suits of armor she'd exchanged more dialogue with. Yes, a conversation buffer was probably a good thing in this case. "Yeah, sure. I'll meet you guys in the entrance hall, I just have to grab something from my room."

And she had to do it very quickly and sneakily because she was NOT in the mood to run into a certain cradle-robbing whoremonger!

She scooted past Ginny, who hurried her along with a slap to the arse, making Hermione jump and shoot the redhead a scandalized expression. Was that appropriate girl _friend_ behavior? She thought not, but apparently it was not only appropriate, it was quite hilarious according to Ginny, who was now clutching her side and laughing at Hermione's look of indignation.

_How rude!_

Letting it slide against her better judgment, she continued down the stairs of the Gryffindor girls' dorms at full speed and practically threw herself through the secret portrait passageway that would take her to her own common room. She didn't stop running until she was squatted beside the back of the canvas, listening for any sign of the-bastard-who-must-not-be-named. She couldn't hear anything, but that didn't stop her from easing the portrait open and peeking out, just to be safe.

The coast was clear. Oh yes, she should have known. He didn't want to miss the carriages and get stuck walking.

_He must get enough exercise carrying that big head of his around all day,_ she thought with a satisfied smirk, mentally storing the insult for later use to his face.

It was with a much calmer gait that she proceeded up the stairs and to her bedroom. Not because she was excited to get to Hogsmead, but because she really just wanted this day to be over with, and the sooner it started, the sooner she figured she'd be back in her nice warm bed, not trying to make awkward small talk with a boy she hardly knew. Oh joy… Why was she doing this again? And more importantly, was it too late to feign a sudden, fatal illness?

She coughed into her hand as she stepped into her bedroom, testing the waters of her acting abilities. It sounded like a cat retching up a hairball. She would definitely have to do better if she was going to fool Ginny, who'd just seen her alive and well not even five minutes prior. She tried several more times, pounding her chest to try and give her hacking a more realistic quality.

"I'd pat you on the back if I believed you to be choking. That was honestly pathetic, Granger," came a silky, drawling voice from the bed. _Her_ bed!

Hermione spun, shrieked and turned puce in a matter of seconds.

"Malfoy! Get—What—How did you—Ugh! What are you doing in my room! On my bed!" she yelled. The Head Boy didn't even flinch from his position of lounging casually across her comforter, his hands folded neatly behind his head.

"Just thought I'd come and see you off," he shrugged. Her fists balled at her sides. "And what a sight it is." He sat up, not even attempting to hide where his focus had shifted. "Is it cold in here, or are your breasts just happy to see me?"

She slowly looked down, horrified to see that he was right. The silk fabric of the shirt was just thin enough to show the slightly raised outline of her nipples. It _was_ cold!

"Humph!" she huffed, crossing her arms tightly across her chest to block Malfoy's view. For some reason, his smirk only widened and his gaze didn't budge.

"Oh no, Granger! Please _don't_ cross your arms like that. It definitely _doesn't_ push your boobs up and make them look deliciously gargantuan or anything."

She literally growled with anger, but he was undeterred, and continued to ogle her breasts with something like amusement and barely-masked hunger in his eyes.

"Stop it! Just… stop being… _so_… so bloody—you!" she screeched, stomping her foot on the floor.

"Yes, I'm really quite insufferable, aren't I?" he replied conversationally.

"What!" Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"I just live you rile your feathers. I must spend several hours a day plotting and planning to do just that," he said simply. He almost seemed to be sympathizing with her. What was going on?

She could only stare at him. This felt like some kind of trick.

"Oh, and you find me really, very ugly. Hideous even." The corner of his lip was starting to twitch, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he was rather enjoying himself. She never knew what he was going to say or do and it was starting to drive her even crazier, if that was possible. _That_ was probably his intention all along.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, impatiently tapping her foot. Her arms were still crossed, pushing up her breasts, and the movement of her leg was making them jiggle ever so slightly. He could feel parts of his anatomy responding, his boxers starting to become uncomfortably warm and constricting. He couldn't look away, but knew that if he didn't, his now semi-hard would blossom into a full-fledged erection, and he didn't think she would buy that it was just his magic wand, even though that wouldn't _technically_ be a lie.

Slowly, his eyes traveled upward, to her pursed lips, freckled nose, and lastly, her glare of death. He couldn't back down and give her the upper hand, so he shot back with his best 'yeah-you-know-you-want-this' eyes. Again, he felt the tingle of blood-flow to his nether region, which surprised him. It was somehow turning him on to see her all fiery and passionate, even though that fiery passionate-ness was most likely because she wanted to gut and stuff him.

He shouldn't want to put his penis in something so potentially dangerous, so very badly, but he did, so very, _very_ badly. He supposed it would sort of serve it right. It was really his penis's fault that he'd gotten himself into this crazy triangle of 'fight—sort of make up—fight' in the first place.

_Yeah sure, Bro,_ came that American-accented penis-voice he'd heard once before. _When the going gets tough, blame the penis. Geesh, and I thought I meant more to you than that…_

It was probably not a good sign that his penis was getting sentimental on him.

"Hello! Earth to Malfoy!" Hermione yelled, waving her hand in front on his face. He instantly snapped back to attention, and just in time: he was about to start apologizing to his penis for being so insensitive.

"What—are—you—doing—in—my—room?" she asked again, making sure to punctuate every word so even _he_ would understand.

"What?"

_Or not…_

"Why are you in here!" He was getting on her very last nerve. Strangling him was such fun…

"Well, I'm definitely _not_ in here to distract you and make you miss your date," he said with an innocent grin that didn't quite mask the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What is with you and all this 'say-the-opposite-of-what-you-mean' bollocks? That stopped being amusing when we were five!"

"Reverse psychology," he shrugged, shifting slightly to relieve some of the pressure down under. "By the way, Hogsmead is _sure_ to be a grand ol' time today. You should definitely go and _not_ stay here and join me in the bed."

" '_The_' bed? It is not _the_ bed, it is _MY_ bed and _you_ shouldn't be in it or near it or even thinking about touching it with your little finger! Get out!" She was becoming hysterical, while he hardly batted an eyelash at her outburst, which in turn made her even more incensed.

"Yes, you _do_ want me to leave, and _not_ stay so we can play with our fun parts," he said, wiggling his brows and smirking too hugely even for him.

"Wow, you must be the world's worst reverse psychologist, because I really didn't want to go to Hogsmead, but you've made me realize that I would rather be anywhere with anyone, as long as it means I don't have to waste one more minute of my life standing in the same space as _you!_" Fuming, she marched to her wardrobe, threw it open and ruffled through the mass of robes until she found her winter cloak. She then ran her hand along the top shelf in search of a scarf and possibly some gloves. "When I turn around, you had better be gone."

After she'd retrieved her things, she had to take a deep, calming breath. She knew he hadn't left or she would've heard him, and she was less than pleased.

She slowly spun on her heel to find that he hadn't moved an inch. If anything, he had made himself even more comfortable in _her_ bed, having nestled his legs under the comforter. Her eyes were blazing fire but he seemed not to notice. Grinning cheekily, he patted the pillow beside him and said, "There's room for two, or even three if you like. I think I could manage you and Weaselette together. Have you two ever—you know…?" He pursed his lips and mimed kissing with way too much tongue.

"OUT!" When he didn't move yet again, she dropped her cloak on the floor, grabbed his arm and pulled with all her might. Unfortunately, all her might wasn't good enough, and she somehow ended up thrown forward, as if their arms were made of thick elastic bands. She flailed around to prevent the oncoming collision, but it was no use. She toppled right into none other than Draco Malfoy.

_Oh no, oh no, oh no… _

It couldn't get any worse, except that it could, because her breasts had landed directly in his face, causing her to slowly die of mortification, and she wasn't the only one going towards the light.

"Holy Merlin's fancy knickers, I have died and gone to boobie heaven!" came Draco's muffled voice from between her breasts. "I knew it existed!"

For a moment she was paralyzed, unable to decide if she could bear to get up and face him, or if it would be a better idea to just stay there, forever and ever, until the school crumbled to the ground in a freak earthquake, and somehow buried only him in the process.

But then his arms were around her. She could feel his calloused hand gripping her bum with force and pulling her hard against him… And he _was_ hard! She could tell, even though he was under the covers of her bed, which was thick with down feathers.

Did this mean that he wanted her? No, it couldn't, could it? She thought his act was just that—an act. But this was real; the evidence was undeniable, plain as day, pressed firmly into her thigh. A rushing feeling of heat flowed through her at the thought, settling on her chest and cheeks. She hoped he couldn't tell from his position underneath her. She squirmed as the burning warmth traveled lower and she heard his sharp intake of breath, making her still her motions. She swallowed hard, knowing she should stop this, _urging_ her body to obey her brain before things got out of control.

Still she didn't get up. He ground into her and squeezed her arse just rough enough to get her to jerk.

_Oh no…_

She felt his lips on her chest. She wanted to move, she really did, but there was this _feeling_… She couldn't quite pinpoint where it was coming from, she just knew that it was making her uncomfortably warm all over… and making her breath catch in her throat… and her pulse race. It was like an itch she was unable to scratch. She _needed_ to scratch it… So she didn't get up… Against all of her knowledge of who he was and how he only wanted to hurt her, she couldn't make her legs move.

Draco couldn't believe what was happening. Somehow things had gone from very wrong to very, very right in a matter of moments. One second she was screaming at him to get out of her room, and the next she had unintentionally fallen into his face. He was well aware that she didn't do it on purpose; as much as he'd convinced her of her subconscious wanting him, this was definitely an accident.

He also knew he shouldn't take advantage of the situation, and hadn't intended to. He'd tried to just make a joke and save the image of her beautiful breasts for later use with his lotion bottle… but something had happened. His body had responded so instantaneously to her being on top of him that he couldn't control his arms from snaking their way around her and pulling her close. It had been so long since they'd done anything but fight, that he'd almost forgotten how much she turned him on. He groaned and rubbed against her, closing his eyes and nuzzling her chest before placing his lips on her bare skin.

He hadn't expected her to comply, so when she didn't push him away and run as fast and far as she could, the last bits of control he had over his body evaporated into thin air. His lips sought her with renewed fervor, biting and sucking to his heart's content. And _still_ she didn't stop him! Should he test his luck?

It seemed he had no choice. His erection was straining in his robes. He wanted her, and he decided to take the fact that she wasn't slapping him as permission.

His mouth continued on the path towards her own, nipping her skin when his tongue wasn't giving him enough of her taste. He was rewarded when she moved against him, her hip making glorious friction against his groin. But it wasn't enough. Too much fabric and feathers separated them, and he wanted more. He wanted to _feel_ the heat he saw in her eyes, pooled between her legs and pressed against him.

His hands moved to grip her upper arms, and with a series of pushing, pulling, and some frantic kicking of the sheets, he had made his way on top of her.

He grinned down at his blushing beauty like a panther hulking over its prey, watching her pink-splotched chest rise and fall in rapid succession. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze, and she gasped at the intensity.

"Dra—Malfoy, we shou—"

With one swift swoop he cut her off, pressing against her slightly parted lips, his tongue slithering out a second later. She only fought for an instant, out of reflex it seemed, but then she opened up for him. Her hands flew to his hair and roughly ran through his silky locks. He almost thought for one fleeting moment that she was trying to get him off of her, but then he felt himself pulled harder against her face as she arched into him. A deep groan formed somewhere in his esophagus.

She was fighting back. It wasn't fair… Now how was he ever going to end this?

All thoughts of stopping were driven from his mind when he felt her legs wrap around him and her pelvis brush against the straining tent in his pants. He had to break the kiss as a shudder ran through him.

"Oh Merlin… Granger… Hermione… You're really asking for it, aren't you?" he said through his heavy breathing.

She shrugged and, smiling crookedly, replied, "Maybe." Her legs gripped tighter and she rubbed herself against his groin once more. There was a sharp intake of breath—from _her_—at the contact, and could that even have been a soft moan? He took the initiative and ground himself into her and was rewarded when she cried out. His erection swelled at the sound.

He kissed her again, one hand reaching down to grasp her arse and pull her closer to him while his cock worked her relentlessly through their clothing.

The sounds of grunts, gasps, and a lot of heavy breathing filled the room. At long last he finally felt her small hands pawing at the hem of his shirt, which he took as clearance to do the same to her. His fingers snaked their way up her stomach, pulling the silky tank top along with them. At the same time he felt her fingernails lightly scrape his abs, travel up and around his pecs, then back down, lower… swirling around his belly button and following the trail of fine hairs into the waistband of his pants.

She paused, suddenly horrorstruck by what she had almost done, and removed her hand as though burned by the fabric of his trousers.

"Please don't stop," he begged. When she didn't return her hand, he had the urge to grab it and shove it down his pants himself. He quickly fought down that urge, knowing that it would never end well in a million years, and instead tried a different tactic. He slowly trailed a single digit between her breasts, down her stomach, tracing the hem for a moment before continuing on. He followed the seam-line of her jeans, over the zipper and lower, until he was lightly running his fingers over her crotch. She squirmed but didn't stop him. He applied more pressure, massaging her sex through her pants, his thumb running in circles over her clit area.

After a short while she was raising her hips to meet his hand. Ducking his head down, he nipped at the soft skin of her neck, distracting her while his fingers worked to undo the button and zipper of her pants. His hand snuck beneath her jeans, bypassing her knickers and going straight for her silky flesh. Which was—to Draco's shock and delight—_very_ silky.

"Granger—you—?" The words were barely a grunt; he was so aroused simple speech was almost impossible.

"I—umm…"

Oh god, Draco Malfoy knew that she shaved—down there! She quickly tried to close her legs while fighting the sudden jolts of arousal that he'd awakened within her.

His hand fought its way lower and she stilled, her thighs squeezing a few of his fingers.

"Come on, Hermione." He smirked down at her with smoldering eyes and her sex throbbed. "Open up, I promise you'll like this."

She wordlessly obeyed; she hardly had a choice in the matter.

He proceeded slowly, his fingers first lightly brushing over each of her outer lips, before parting them and tracing along her inner labia. When they finally brushed over her clit, her legs jerked up involuntarily and she had to grip the sheets for support. It was too much, the feelings so intense and so new and so _raw_—she couldn't control herself. She moaned.

He slowly moved a single digit to her entrance, dipping inside and transferring the liquid to her clit so he could glide smoothly over the little nub. She had to grind her teeth to keep from crying out.

"Oh Granger, you're so… wet. Fuck." Draco had to momentarily close his eyes and bite his lip. Though any part of her had yet to make contact with his penis, he felt like it might explode prematurely—like, Weasley prematurely, which was simply unacceptable.

When his hand stopped moving, Hermione opened her eyes and stared, as his face seemed to contort into some kind of pained expression. After a few seconds of this, her eyes widened in horror and the reality of the situation sunk in. Complete and utter humiliation finally surpassed her raging hormones. Draco Malfoy knew she had—err—woman juices—for him!

"I have to go."

Before he could comprehend what was happening, she had wiggled out from underneath him and leapt off the bed. Her arms flew out to the side to help her regain balance; her legs felt like jelly and it didn't help that her pants were down and the bottoms were dragging on the floor.

"Ginny's waiting—and—umm—" She was bouncing up and down, trying to pull up her too-tight jeans and refasten them. "—the carriages have—probably—you know—moved by now."

The zipper was up and the button was through the hole. She frantically pawed the ground, collecting her cloak, gloves and scarf, and bolted towards the exit.

"So… bye then!" She threw open the door, not bothered that she was leaving him in her room or on her bed. He could try on her knickers and bras for all she cared at that moment, as long as she was far, far away from him when he did so.

She was out the portrait hole and halfway down the hall before she stopped to breathe and pull on her cloak. She also made a sad attempt at straightening the hair Ginny had worked so hard on, but knew it was no use. Conceding defeat, she walked on along the empty corridor. Everyone really was already in Hogsmead.

She heard footsteps behind her. Correction, _almost_ everyone was already in Hogsmead.

"Granger, hold up!" came the voice of the last person she wanted to hear. She couldn't turn to face him. Not yet. Not when she hadn't even had time to process what she was going to pretend never happened in the first place.

"Granger! I need to talk to you for a second!"

"Talk? Talk about what? What could we possibly have to talk about?" Her voice was a high-pitched squeak, like she was playing on fast forward. "I mean, nothing happened! Nothing! You didn't touch my boobs or vagina and I didn't almost grab your... your—"

She gulped.

_Fucking. Balls. _

Draco Malfoy was not alone. This was definitely not her day.

"Umm… Hello Professor Dumbledore."


End file.
